


A Sea Without Water, A Compass Without Direction.

by sincerely_inge



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alpha Harry, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Magic, Magic-Users, Mpreg Louis, Non-Graphic Violence, Omega Louis, Pirate Harry, Pirates, Slow Burn, but like a tiny bit of magic, if you squint you can see it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-03-24 10:06:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 84,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13808952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sincerely_inge/pseuds/sincerely_inge
Summary: ”Tell me, Louis,” Captain Styles said, leaning forward a little. ”D’you think I’m an idiot?””I—what?” Louis asked, surprised by the blunt question. He had expected something different, something along the lines of how he learned music, or how he ended up as a prisoner on the other ship.”Do you think I’m an idiot?” The captain repeated, putting emphasis on each word as though Louis couldn’t understand him otherwise.”Of course not,” Louis said, shaking his head. He’d be a fool for thinking such a thing, and an even bigger fool for saying it out loud. ”Captain.”Captain Styles nodded slowly, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands in his lap. ”Then why did you lie to me?””L-Lie?””Out on the deck. You lied to me,” he said. He held up his hand, three fingers up.”Three lies total. I hate liars.”





	1. Death.

**Author's Note:**

> Spanish, Russian and Brazilian Portuguese translation available!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish translation: [here](https://my.w.tt/Dk8CbbGKGR)
> 
> Russian translation: [here](https://ficbook.net/readfic/6695276)
> 
> Brazilian Portuguese translation: [here](https://www.wattpad.com/580223789-a-sea-without-water-a-compass-without-direction)
> 
> Important terminology in this chapter:  
> \- cooper: a man skilled in making and maintaining barrels.

The sky was bright blue, the sun warm on the earth. It couldn't beat the heat of the fire burning behind Louis, destroying the ship he was a prisoner on only mere minutes ago. The fire crackled, the air smelling of smoke and faintly of burning flesh, overpowering the salt of the sea. 

Louis wrists hurt from where they were bound together behind his back with thick rope. His knees hurt from being forced to sit on them on the rough wood of the ship. He was one of the many others being taken from the ship, lined up in a long row. They were surrounded by the crew that had taken them, each watching with similar expressions: cold, careless, judging as though they were lesser than them. A man, quite obviously their captain, went from prisoner to prisoner, asking them the same questions, giving them different fates depending on the answers he received. There were only two men until he got to Louis.

"Name?" The rough, low voice asked. There was disinterest in his tone, as though he had done this far too many times. Louis suspected that he had.

"D-David Monroe, s-sir," a trembling voice answered. It sounded young, scared. Louis knew he was going to die from the way he answered. He said sir, instead of captain. Saying sir was almost like an insult to pirate captains, as Navy men were referred to as sir, and they didn't want to be compared to the Navy. That was the biggest insult, to be compared with their enemies.

"Any talents, David Monroe?" the captain asked, a hint of mockery as he repeated the name.

"I-I can c-cook, sir."

"Cook? And who taught you how to cook, David?" More mockery. It was demeaning.

"My m-mother, sir," David answered.

"Tell me, is your mother dead?"

"No, sir?" There was a questioning tone to his voice, as it was obvious that he didn't understand what the question was leading to.

Louis closed his eyes, bracing himself for the noise he knew to come.

"That's too bad. If she was dead, perhaps you would've been able to say hello to her for me," the captain said.

The sound of a gunshot, and then a body thudding on the wooden deck. Louis flinched at both.

It was difficult to fathom that he was bound up in the cellar only minutes ago, listening to the sound of the sea, of men working and of his capturer yelling orders, of rum sloshing in its barrels. He had been there for two full days before he heard the sound of bloodcurdling screams, the sound of swords hitting swords and guns firing rapidly. He had shared the confinement with another prisoner named Niall, an Irish lad with blonde hair and a strangely upbeat attitude, considering their situation. He was two men down the row. Then they were roughly pulled out of the cellar by different men, men Louis didn't recognise. The first thing he saw was dead bodies and more blood than there had been rum. He had been led over to another ship, a ship that belonged to their attackers, and there they had been pushed on their knees, waiting for the judgement from the captain, who, quite obviously, was merciless in his decisions. He wasn't afraid to do the dirty work either, evidently.

Louis wished he was back in that cellar. He wasn't going to be, never again. The ship was burning to ashes on the sea behind him, the constant heat on his back and the smell reminding him of that. He tried to think of any answers in advance so that he was ready by the time the captain got to him, but he couldn't think clearly. He was scared, whether he wanted to admit that or not, and said fear was clouding his mind. 

"You'll be assistant of our cooper. He could use some help," he heard the captain say as he focused on his surroundings again. "Don't let me down, Nicholas. We wouldn't want you to end up like Dylan, now would we?"

"No, Captain. Thank you, Captain," the man, apparently named Nicholas, said quickly. Louis couldn't see him, but it sounded like he was going to cry out of relief. He sounded old--or, well, older. Around his forties, maybe.

Louis kept his gaze on the deck as he heard the lethargic sound of heels clicking against wood resonate across the sea in slow approach. The shoes were expensive, made of leather with small heels that caused the loud thudding.

"Look up," the captain ordered Louis. He did as he said, not wanting to upset the man and end up getting himself killed. 

What he didn't expect to see, was [somebody](https://pin.it/l4ejifvv2yiaig) that looked like they had been carved by the Gods themselves. Long, brown, curly hair that reached just past the man's shoulders. Bright, green eyes that were narrowed in suspicion, furrowed brows and a strong jaw. His lips were uneven, the upper one slightly more arched towards the left. 

His smell was what made Louis practically quiver. He was an Alpha that reeked of authority.

"What's your name?" The man asked.

"Louis," Louis answered. "Captain,” he quickly added.

"No last name?"

This seemed to interest the Captain, who's eyebrow twitched in said interest.

"No, Captain."

He hummed, suddenly crouching so that he was on eye-level with Louis, his forearms leaning on his legs, a gun in his right hand. "What're your talents, No Last Name Louis?" He asked, yet again a hint of mockery in his voice.

"I'm not a pirate. I was just a prisoner," Louis said. The captain glanced at another man, who nodded in confirmation that Louis was indeed a prisoner. "I don't have any talents valuable to a pirate."

"Well that's not what I asked, is it?" The captain said, his voice turning agitated. "I asked whether you had any talents. Don't think I used the word pirate anywhere in there."

"No, captain," Louis quickly said, shaking his head. "I-I... I suppose I can clean?"

He instantly realised it was the wrong answer when he saw the man's shoulders sag a little, his interest lost quickly. He made moves to stand up, and Louis realised that the last sound he was going to hear was that of a gun going off if he wasn't going to say something quickly.

"I'm a musician!" He exclaimed, causing the captain to stop in the middle of his movements. "I play the piano. And the guitar. I can sing a little, too."

"Musician?" The captain asked, one eyebrow slowly rising. Louis nodded slowly. It wasn't impressive, it probably was laughable in front of the crew, but he was willing to say anything at this point if it meant his survival. He was even willing to reveal his identity, which he knew gave him a bigger chance at an early grave than actual survival.

He expected a different reaction than he got from the captain. He expected him to say something, not to stand up again. He felt his heart drop when the man turned his back to him and his hand holding the gun moved a little. 

"Bring him to my quarters," he said.

Nobody moved, seemingly just as surprised as Louis.

"Am I talking to a fucking wall? Bring him to my quarters!"

Two men stepped out of the surrounding crowd, pulling Louis up by his arms and forcing him to walk to the cabin. He faintly registered hearing the captain ask the next guy a question before he was thrown into the captain's cabin, the door slamming closed behind him. It was suddenly dead quiet, nearly deafening. Louis stood in the middle of the cabin, lost.

It was considerably big. In the back, there was a big, mahogany desk with a similarly styled chair behind it, a different, lesser quality chair on the opposite side. There were cupboards on either side of the windows against the walls behind the desk. The windows behind the desk were the only source of natural light. On Louis’ far left there was a spacious bed, adorned with deep red covers and, if he was honest, resembled something fitted for a palace. It looked rich and dramatic, which Louis could see fitting for the captain, even though not knowing him long. In the middle of the cabin, there was a big, red rug, on which there was a mahogany table with a few chairs around it. Tucked away in the corner on Louis’ right was a tub, one in which Louis could still see droplets of water on the bottom. It had been used not to long ago, then.

His thoughts were roughly interrupted when he heard a gunshot going off outside, causing him to flinch and cower in silence. He could only hope it wasn’t Niall.

”Alright, clerks, listen up,” he could hear the captain’s muffled voice say after a few minutes. “If you’re still alive right now, my compliments, I somehow saw some use in you for my ship. My name is Harry Styles, but you’ll refer to me as Captain Styles unless specifically told otherwise.”

A short silence.

”Welcome aboard the Cursed Odyssey. To your stations.”

Louis let the words sink in, his blood running cold when he finally remembered the names laid out in front of him. Captain Styles of the Cursed Odyssey. One of the most feared pirates in the world. The wealthiest, the most merciless and the best pirate in the world. There wasn’t a single soul who didn’t know who he was, what he had done, what he was going to do... he was known for many reasons, and only a handful of those was positive.

Louis was going to die.

The door suddenly slammed open. Louis whipped around in surprise, seeing the captain— Captain Styles, for God’s sake, walk inside and close the door behind him. He didn’t give Louis as much as a glance as he brushed past him. He grabbed a cup from his desk, filling it with rum from a carafe silently. Louis almost thought he had forgotten about him when he suddenly addressed him.

”Do you know who I am, Louis?” He asked. His voice was lower, more intimidating. 

“Yes. You’re Captain Styles,” Louis answered, refusing to let his voice tremble and subtly raising his chin a little to look less intimidated.

Captain Styles only hummed, sitting down in the chair behind the desk, propping his feet up on the desk as he sipped from his cup. “Sit,” he demanded, motioning to the chair on the other side of the desk.

Louis didn’t move.

”Who’d you shoot?” He asked instead. The captain raised an eyebrow. “I heard another gunshot. You killed somebody else. Who was it?”

Captain Styles smirked into his cup as he took another sip, his eyes turning a little distant as he looked away. He took his time answering. ”Blond lad,” he then answered slowly. Louis' heart sank. Niall was blond. ”He had this annoying accent.” Niall had an accent. The Captain shook his head with still the same smirk, as though he was remembering a funny joke. ”Said he was a navigator. Already have one of those. Besides,” he said, placing his cup on the desk and taking his feet off, properly turning to Louis, as he weaved his fingers together and put his elbows on the table. ”I never liked Scottish’ accents. Can never understand them. Sit.”

Louis almost sighed in relief. It wasn’t Niall, then, thank God. He obeyed the captain’s orders, sitting down in the chair in front of the desk. It was silent for a few moments. 

”Tell me, Louis,” Captain Styles said, leaning forward a little. ”D’you think I’m an idiot?”

”I--what?” Louis asked, surprised by the blunt question. He had expected something different, something along the lines of how he learned music, or how he ended up as a prisoner on the other ship.

”Do you think I’m an idiot?” The captain repeated, putting emphasis on each word as though Louis couldn’t understand him otherwise.

”Of course not,” Louis said, shaking his head. He’d be a fool for thinking such a thing, and an even bigger fool for saying it out loud. ”Captain.”

Captain Styles nodded slowly, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands in his lap. ”Then why did you lie to me?”

...

”L-Lie?”

”Out on the deck. You lied to me,” he said. He held up his hand, three fingers up. ”Three lies total. I hate liars.”

Louis swallowed thickly, not knowing what to say. 

”Lie number one,” the captain continued with only one finger up. ”You said you didn’t have any talents. Then you gave me three in total. A lie. Lie number two: telling me you were ’just a prisoner’. You’re not just a prisoner.” He leaned forward a little, two fingers up. ”You were bought.”

A small pause, one in which Louis tried to figure out how the hell the captain knew this much.

”Lie number three: saying you only have a first name, which you don’t.” Captain Styles leaned forward in his seat, his hand dropping into his lap again. ”Or am I wrong, Louis Tomlinson?”

Louis was definitely going to die.

Captain Styles smirked when Louis didn’t answer, proving that he was correct. He leaned back in his chair again, quite clearly satisfied with the situation. ”In full honesty, I am an idiot, you’re very much right in that aspect,” he said, taking something out of his coat and holding it up. They were letters. Documents. ”But I’m not a big enough idiot to be unable to read.”

He tossed the letters on the desk. Louis knew what was in them. Everything there was to be found on him, was in them. His age, his height and weight, his name, his background... everything.

”You are Prince Louis William Tomlinson of Yorkshire, son of the King and Queen of Yorkshire, rulers of Great Britain,” he continued. ”You were born on the 24th of December, and you’re an Omega. The captain of the ship you were on bought you for 18.000 golden coins.” He paused. ”That’s a lot of money for a sex slave.”

Louis nearly shivered at the term. Nearly. ”It’s not a lot for an Omega with royal blood,” he said, suddenly a lot less caring of his own safety and refusing to let himself get insulted by a pirate. If he was going to die, he was going to die with honour, and there was nothing honourable for a prince to let himself get  insulted by some stupid, disgusting pirate captain. ”It’s clearly more than you can afford.”

Captain Styles scoffed, shaking his head. ”Oh, I could buy your entire family three times over if they were each worth that amount,” he said, not the slightest bit bothered by Louis' insults. Or, rather, his attempts at insults. ”But I’m not interested in that.”

”Then what?” Louis snapped. 

The Captain’s smirk disappeared, his gaze turning cold. He suddenly pulled out a dagger from under his belt, standing up and moving around the desk until he was behind Louis. The latter feared for his throat to be slit at any moment, thinking that he had gone too far, had disrespected the captain too much. Instead of that happening, though, the rope around his wrists was suddenly sliced open, releasing his hands from their uncomfortable prison. He immediately brought them to his chest, rubbing his aching wrists in an attempt to soothe them. 

His shirt was suddenly pulled to the side, exposing his shoulder and, Louis realised, his scent gland. His unmarked spot. ”You’re not marked. Good,” Captain Styles said, letting go of Louis, not bothering to put the shirt back properly, and moved around the desk to sit down in his chair again. ”That’ll make it easier to sell you.”

”S-Sell me?” Louis asked, his eyes widening in fear. He wasn't daft; he knew for a fact that this best chances of survival were on this ship, under Captain Styles’ watchful eyes. Here, he had the least chance of getting raped, he assumed. That was, after all, the only reason he was a slave in the first place: to be raped by the highest bidder. It was disgusting, but also the reality.

”Well, I can’t exactly keep you, can I?” The Captain said. “You’re a liability. If I were to keep you, the Navy will only have more reason to take me in, to hunt me down and hang me like the dog that I am. They’re looking for you, and when they find you, I don’t want it to be on my ship.”

Louis went over his words slowly, noticing one very prominent error. “Nobody’s coming for me,” he said. “Like you said, I’m an omega. My father hates the idea of me taking over the throne.”

Captain Styles’ brows furrowed, and Louis knew he had his full attention. He had to be careful with his next words, highly aware that they could assure him a spot on Styles’ crew if he chose them correctly.

”I’m a male Omega, and in my rank, those are seen as a... mistake,” Louis said, talking slowly to make sure he didn’t say anything wrong. “We’re seen as weak, defenceless, easily manipulated... not as a ruler of an entire country. My sisters are all Betas, and all my father has to do is find a suitable mate to create the perfect royal couple. There’s only one difficulty with that plan.”

”You’re the next in line, not your sisters,” Captain Styles thoughtfully added, starting to catch up with Louis, who nodded in confirmation of his words.

”Exactly. But now that I’m gone, all he has to do is pretend he looked everywhere for me, write up a rapport about how they found my body at the bottom of the cliff after I jumped to my death, unable to handle the shame of being an Omega.” Louis paused for a moment, refusing to let the pain he felt be heard in his words. “Like you said. I’m a liability everywhere I go. At least on this ship, I’ve got some sort of a prospect.”

Captain Styles didn’t immediately reply, just watching Louis with furrowed brows, lost in thought. “You can write and read, correct?” He asked. Louis nodded. “Then it’s settled. You’ll be my cabin boy.”

It wasn’t Louis’ intention, but he jolted in fear. The captain that had bought him had told him he would be a cabin boy—but not for reading and writing. For far less respectable causes.

Captain Styles seemed to have noticed, his face turning into an insulted scowl. “Do you really think I’m anything like the scum that bought you?” He asked, guessing what Louis was thinking, and with that, guessing correctly.

He shook his head frantically. “I—no, definitely not,” he lied. He hadn’t been around enough pirates to find a distinct difference between them. From what he had seen so far, they were ruthless in their actions, unafraid of the consequences and unafraid of dying. “I just... a cabin boy meant something different to him.”

”D’you even know the name of the man that bought you?” Captain Styles asked. Louis shook his head. He hadn’t a clue.

”Captain Bowman,” Styles continued. “Terrible man, he was. All talk, no substance, except for his money. He didn’t know how to spend it though, evidently.”

He motioned to Louis, clearly hinting at the 18.000 gold that was spent on him. Louis obviously felt insulted, unable to keep it in. “Excuse me? I’m worth a hundred times that amount!” He said, leaning forward in an attempt to look threatening. Styles just looked at him with an unimpressed look, an amused smirk pulling on the corners of his lips.

”In fact, you could never afford me!” Louis said, rising up from his seat. “I‘m a prince, nobody can afford me! Not even a low-life pirate like you, who claims to have endless riches!”

Captain Styles’ face fell at that, and Louis knew he had crossed a line. He slowly rose up from his seat, his expression turning cold and threatening. “Careful,” he growled. “Big mouth for a slave like you.”

”I’m not a slave,” Louis hissed, finally getting sick of how he was treated. He had been kidnapped, forced into a cage only to be forced out of it, pushed onto a stage for men to gawk and bid, sold to a captain that resembled something of a pig walking on two legs, and then stolen and be thrown into a cabin with a captain that treated him like trash. He was sick of it.

Styles grabbed the documents off the desk, holding them up. “These tell me differently,” he said, slowly inching around the desk toward Louis, who refused to move. “According to these, I now own you. I can do whatever I want to you, and nobody, not even your mommy and daddy, can say anything about it.”

He was now in front of Louis, staring him down. It showed how tall he was, much taller than Louis, but he wasn’t going to let his height intimidate him.

”But you know why I won’t do that? Because I believe in honour and respect,” Styles continued, bringing his face close to Louis’. “I’m not some ‘low-life pirate’ like Bowman. I’m Captain Harry Styles, and I will not let myself be compared to scum like him.”

Louis swallowed, at a loss for words.

“Compare me to anyone like that again, and I’ll throw you off this ship into the sea quicker than you can blink.”

Louis leaned closer, narrowing his eyes. “I’d like to see you try,” he hissed, praying that Styles couldn’t hear his heart pound in his chest in fear.

The Captain scoffed, tossing the papers on the desk and grabbing Louis’ upper arm, dragging him to the bed. His heart stopped beating, immediately thinking he was going to be raped by the captain right then and there, but instead, he was tossed on it carelessly, his wrist suddenly attached to the headboard leg with thick rope.

”What the hell?” Louis exclaimed. Captain Styles grabbed his chin roughly, forcing him to look at him. Louis nearly cowered. Nearly.

”Make a single sound, and I’ll have you on this bed without a single regret,” he said, his voice low. It wasn’t just him talking anymore, but the Alpha in him. “Understood?”

Louis nodded weakly, unable to speak.

Styles released him again, abruptly walking away and leaving the room, slamming the door close hard enough for the walls to shake. Louis then realised how much his breath had quickened.

He was most definitely going to die.


	2. Courses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important terminology in this chapter:  
> \- quarter-deck: A raised deck behind the main mast of a ship.

It was hours later, when the moon was shining through the windows, that Captain Styles returned again. Throughout this time, Louis had remained chained to the bed, his wrist aching as much as his back was from the same position he had been in for hours on end. He had gotten considerably bored, and was now at the point that watching one of the paintings on the wall opposite of him counted as entertainment. It was swinging gently along with the sea. It wasn't any good, either. Almost like it had been done by a child. The lines were a bit squiggly, the colours darker in what appeared to by non-logical places. Louis assumed that the painting had some sort of sentimental value to Captain Styles, as he couldn't understand why somebody would keep it for its looks. He, admittedly, found it difficult to imagine that the captain even knew what sentimental value was, as he had only showed a cold, arrogant exterior so far, and nothing that Louis could classify as a regular person's emotions.

The first thing that Louis smelled when the captain returned was alcohol. He was drunk, and even though Louis wasn't going to admit it, he was afraid for what was going to happen next. He could only hope that the captain wasn't an angry drunk like he was expecting him to be, but rather a lot more enjoyable to be around.

When Captain Styles had opened the door he had paused momentarily, looking at Louis with a confused frown. He seemed to have forgotten about him in his drunken state, and Louis was almost offended. “You’re still here,” he mumbled. Louis detected a slur.

”Kind of difficult to leave when your hand’s attached to a bed, innit?” Louis bit. He got a calculating look, as though the captain was going over his words. Then he shrugged carelessly, as though Louis' words didn't mean much to him, which they probably didn't.

”I expected you to have escaped the rope by now,” Styles said, closing the door and stumbling into the cabin. “You seem like the type.”

Louis wasn’t sure whether it was a compliment or not, but he decided to take it as one as to not make the situation unnecessarily more difficult. “You’re drunk,” he then decided was the next smart thing to say. 

”Aye,” the captain agreed simply, walking towards the bed and sitting down on the edge. Louis immediately pulled his legs up to his chest. If the captain had seen it, he ignored it.

Styles took off his coat, throwing it carelessly on the floor. It nearly hurt Louis, to see the man be so careless with his clothing. That quickly disappeared when he continued unbuttoning his shirt, throwing the article of clothing on top of the coat. Louis couldn’t stop himself from staring, albeit with a bit of shame. The captain had a lot of tattoos, that, admittedly, were beautiful. Some looked a bit dumb, although to be fair, Louis had never been a fan of tattoos, so perhaps he wasn’t the one to make a judgemental comment about it. He could definitely get used to those, though. Definitely.

If the captain wasn’t such a dick, that is.

”Starin’s rude,” Styles slurred, proceeding to take off his boots, unbothered by catching Louis' considerably lustful gaze.

”Am I supposed to close my eyes, then?” Louis replied, sarcasm dripping off every word. Now that the captain was intoxicated and Louis was completely cranky from the lack of food he had gotten (which was none), he felt a little braver in the words he was using, and the tone he applied to them.

“Close your mouth while you’re at it,” the Captain replied easily, and Louis was a little impressed. People often had trouble keeping up with his sarcasm. Styles didn’t even need to try, it appeared.

At a loss for a better reply, Louis opened his mouth widely, as to do the opposite of his words. Captain Styles looked at him, cocking an eyebrow, an amused smirk hinting at his lips. “If you want my cock that bad, you only have to ask, love,” he then said casually, standing up.

It was needless to say that Louis snapped his jaw shut, his eyes widening at the words of the captain. “If you think you’re gettin’ any of that type of action from me you’ve got another thing comin’,” he said, watching as the pirate took off his rings and dropped them on the desk, all except one: a rose decorated ring.

”Yes, I bet I’ll be coming,” he replied, smirking smugly. Louis was at a complete loss for words, unable to come up with a witty reply. This hardly ever happened, a speechless Louis.

Captain Styles wandered over to the bed, collapsing on top of it, pushing his face into one of the many pillows. Louis just watched the muscles in his back flex under the movements and swallowed dryly. Louis may be a prince, and thus would never fall for men like Captain Styles, but that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate a good view. And the captain was most definitely a good view. He lifted his head after a few seconds, turning his gaze to Louis. His hair was in loose strands in front of his face, and Louis didn't really like how unnaturally good he looked. “It smells like you,” he muttered. “It all fucking smells like you.”

“Shouldn’t have chained me to it, then,” Louis said matter-of-factly, refusing to give him an actual proper response. The captain waved it off.

”Don’t mind it much,” he said. “You don’t stink like all them other lot.”

Louis assumed ‘all them other lot’ to be the crew.

“Something like strawberries, I reckon,” Styles continued, dropping his head on the pillow again. “Smells alright.”

Louis didn’t reply, ought it best not to. He wasn’t exactly sure what to think of an intoxicated Captain Styles, and surely didn't know how to reply to him, so he changed the subject, hoping that it wasn't too obvious. 

”So, Captain, when do you think you’re going to release from these ropes?” Louis asked, motioning to his bound hand with his free one. “It’s starting to hurt.” If starting meant for the past two hours, that is.

“Harry,” the captain mumbled. It was muffled due to his pillow.

”What?”

”My name’s Harry.”

”That’s wonderful. Now, about these—" 

”Call me Harry,” the captain said, lifting his head again. “Do it." 

They kept their gaze for a few seconds, Louis finally giving in when he realised that the drunk pirate wasn’t going to give up until Louis did as he said.

”Okay,  _Harry_ ,” Louis said. The name felt foreign in his mouth, a little wrong, even. “When are you going to let me out of these ropes?”

”Tomorrow, maybe,” the captain said, dropping his head on the pillow yet again with such carelessness and casualty that Louis hoped it hurt him--as much as a pillow could hurt somebody, he supposed.

”Wha— tomorrow? And maybe?” Louis exclaimed, earning a hum. “Sorry, but what the hell? I don’t deserve that! I’ve done everything you told me to. I get to sleep normally tonight, on the floor preferably, so that I won’t wake up beside you with a dead wrist!”

He didn’t get an answer. Well, if the soft snoring didn’t count as one. Harry was asleep.

Louis could only stare at the half-naked man in disbelief. How fast somebody could fall asleep like that was beyond him. He was pretty sure Harry wasn’t faking it either, and then wondered how the hell he could breathe with both his nose and mouth buried into the pillow under him. 

After at least an hour of moving around, he eventually managed to get comfortable enough for sleep to start to settle in, the aching in his wrist slowly starting to get blocked out. It was also then that the captain suddenly slung an arm around his waist and pressed his face into Louis’ side. 

The fact that he didn’t push Harry away was simply because he was too tired.

Louis also didn’t realise he’d started referring to him as Harry, instead of Captain Styles.

༻♛༺

When Louis woke up the next morning, the bed was empty, the rope around his wrist was gone, and so were the clothes on the floor.

He slowly sat up, rubbing his dully aching wrist that was starting to bruise. He sat on the edge of the bed for a few minutes, enjoying the sound of the sea and the wind and the voices outside. He slowly stood up after a little while, having difficulty to decide on whether he should search the room or go outside. He chose for the latter, but did swipe a dagger off the table and put it in his belt, hanging his shirt over it. He was still wearing his clothes from the auction, which only consisted out of cheap rags that resembled clothes. He wasn’t used to it. He was used to wearing the best quality, be dressed in the morning and change multiple times per day: it made him realise how spoiled the life he had been living was. How rich it was.

He stepped out of the cabin on the main deck into the bright sunlight, narrowing his eyes to block it out a little. He was only able to take a few steps when a familiar voice called out to him.

“Finally awake, then?” Harry said from somewhere above him. When Louis turned around he saw the captain leaning on the wooden balustrade on the edge of the quarter-deck, his gaze on Louis.

”Could’ve awoken me,” he replied, keeping eye-contact. Harry just kept looking at him with an empty expression, an expression that Louis thought had to be permanent, considering he hardly saw something else. Although to be fair, he hadn’t exactly been on the ship for very long. He was quite a good judge of character, though.

Harry’s eyes flickered to Louis bruised wrist, and Louis could swear that he saw regret flash through the captain’s eyes. If it was ever there, it was gone as quick as the blink of an eye.

”Thanks for releasing me,” Louis said, motioning to his wrist. “From the ropes, I mean.”

“‘S’not like you had very far to go,” Harry said with a small shrug, trying to act careless about it. He was succeeding.

He looked at Louis with a thoughtful look for a few seconds, before taking his arms of the balustrade and straightening his back. “Come up here,” he said whilst tipping his back in a reverse nod of sorts, disappearing from Louis’ view when he stepped back.

Louis went over his options for a moment, knowing he could either follow his captain’s orders and come up to the quarter-deck, or simply ignore him and face the consequences. He ultimately decided for the first, and reluctantly climbed the short ladder. Once on the deck, he saw Harry leaning against the balustrade on the edge of the ship with his lower back. Beside him was another guy, hunched over what seemed to be an unfinished map and multiple random papers. Upon noticing Louis, Harry motioned him over.

“I’d like you to meet Zayn, our navigator,” he said when Louis approached. The other guy, apparently called Zayn, glanced up, giving Louis a quick glance over and a nod before focusing on his map again. He was incredibly good-looking, almost unfairly so. He had dark, dark hair and chocolate brown eyes. His skin has a darker, more olive tone to it, giving Louis the assumption that he was from someplace far warmer than England. “He’s the best navigator in the world.”

“Maybe not the best,” Zayn replied, not looking up. “I’m definitely up there, though.”

“How humble of you to think the same,” Harry replied with a cocked eyebrow.

“Says Captain ‘those who don’t fear me are already dead’ Styles.”

Harry snorted, patting Zayn’s back. “Fair,” he said, before looking at Louis again. “I assumed you to have learned some geography, so I thought that you could make yourself useful and help Zayn out.” 

“If he’s the best, why does he need my help?” Louis wittily replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest with a challenging expression on his features.

“I don’t,” Zayn said,  _still_  not looking up. “But we need to see if you got any other talents besides singing a fun song and acting like a prince.”

Louis swallowed thickly. So Zayn knew who he was. It made him wonder if the others on the ship knew the same thing about his real identity.

Harry pushed himself off the balustrade, patting Louis’ shoulder and leaning close as he passed him. “Everyone knows, princess,” he said, answering the question Louis hadn’t vocally uttered. It must’ve been clear on his face, then.

As Harry left, Zayn finally looked up. “So you’re the Omega Prince everyone’s on about,” he commented. It was a question grammatical wise, but he didn’t vocalise it as one.

 “Original nickname,” Louis sarcastically muttered. It really wasn’t. He had heard it often enough. There were also a lot more unsavoury ones, which he hoped nobody on the ship was going to use. 

“It was either that or Prince Slave, so,” Zayn said, before grinning. “Jokin’.”

Louis gave him a half-hearted smile. “It’s not exactly a joke from my perspective,” he said. Zayn gave him an apologetic look, though it wasn't the most sincere. Louis preferred that particular look to pity, however. He did not need to be pitied.

“Nobody cares about who you are on this ship,” Zayn assured him. “I was in a similar situation like you, y’know. Omega trade, I mean." 

And then Louis smelled it. Zayn was an omega too. Those were three so far: he, Zayn and Niall. 

“Harry saved me from the tosser who bought me,” the pirate continued. “Was about to be marked too, so it was nicely timed.”

Louis just nodded, not sure how to answer. Zayn was being so... casual about it all, like it didn’t bother him. It probably didn’t, but still. It wasn’t an easy topic, something to shrug off and laugh about—at least, not to Louis. When he was taken from the castle’s gardens, he had been convinced his death wasn’t far off. He was kept in a cage with multiple other Omegas for days on end. And then, one day, they were pulled out and their wrists had been chained together. They had been led out on a stage one by one. Louis remembered it far too well, walking on the stage and seeing the men in front of it, all wearing disturbing smirks and all smelling of Alpha. The bidding was the worst part. They were all so... eager for him, so hungry. And just kept bidding and bidding and the more they did the more Louis felt like an object on the market.

And the worst part was that he was. A sex object on the black market.

“So, you needed my he— assistance?” Louis asked, trying to change the subject. He felt too uncomfortable to talk about it with Zayn. He didn’t know him, not in the slightest.

“I don’t need it,” Zayn countered, motioning to the map. “I just... I’ve never been very good with distance calculation, ‘s’all.” 

Louis smiled reassuringly, nodding and stepping closer to take a look at the map. It had a red line over it, setting out a course for the ship: they seemed to be heading towards the Kingdom of France. From what it looked like, they were near the Mogul Empire. On the papers scattered around it were a bunch of calculations. Most of it was correct, but just not what Zayn was looking for. A lot was scratched through, and when Louis glanced at him, he saw an embarrassed glint in Zayn’s eyes. He grabbed an empty piece of paper.

“Alright, so, right here, you made a good start, you just added the wrong things,” Louis explained, pointing at multiple things on other papers. 

༻♛༺

It was hours later, nearing the afternoon, that Louis and Zayn finished their calculations. The initial calculations took mere minutes, but then they saw different courses and possibilities, and, well... they kind of got entranced by it all. By the end of it they found about thirteen different courses to follow to get to France, some short and quick, others longer but opening possibilities to passing other countries in order to claim things to trade with the French. Louis actually found himself get comfortable around Zayn a lot quicker than he expected. He wasn’t an easy person to talk to, preferring to using his expressions to his words when he disagreed or thought differently, but Louis kind of liked it. He himself talked a lot, so it seemed to balance each other out quite nicely. By the end of it, he was pretty sure he had made a new friend.

“Alright, you take these plans to the Cap'n, yeah?” Zayn said, pushing all the papers in Louis’ hands without so much as a warning. 

“Me?” Louis asked in surprise, barely capable of holding the papers up and not dropping them into the ocean.

Zayn paused in his movements, looking at him with a frown. “You’re his cabin boy, right?” He asked. And then Louis remembered.

Oh. Right.

He was still Harry’s cabin boy. Harry’s property too, according to all the documents.

“Yeah, yeah, just thought that—,” Louis cut himself off when he saw Zayn watch him with an odd look. “Nevermind.”

He then turned around and attempted climbing down the ladder without dropping too much of the paper, and actually managed to do so, though not very gracefully. Once he was safely on the main deck again, he stumbled over to Harry’s cabin and knocked a few times.

He didn’t get an answer.

Louis didn’t have the patience to wait outside and pushed the door open with his foot, walking inside and kicking it closed again. He approached Harry’s desk, dropping the stack of papers on top of it. He rolled his neck around a few times, groaning in pleasure when the joints popped.

He turned around, his gaze landing on the bed, his mind instantly remembering the night before. His cheeks turned a light red at the memory, the awkwardness returning to him quickly. He wondered if Harry remembered anything about it, about telling him to call him Harry, about all the sexual jokes he had made. From their short interaction this morning, he didn’t seem to. Louis was glad about that: their conversation hadn’t exactly been one to remember blissfully. Some things were better left forgotten, and last night was most definitely amongst those things.

He was about to leave the cabin again, when the door suddenly swung open and Harry sauntered in. He glanced up at Louis momentarily, before proceeding to grab an apple from the bowl on the table and walking over to the desk, sitting down in his chair and propping his feet up on the desk. He grabbed one of the papers Louis had put on the desk. 

“What’s this?” He asked with that same bored undertone yet again present, biting into the apple.

“Different courses for the Kingdom of France, Captain,” Louis said. Harry glanced at him, handing him the paper. 

“Thought I’d told you to call me Harry,” he said. Louis looked at him in surprise.

So he did remember last night.

“What, you think I didn’t remember?” Harry said, noticing his expression. “What’d you take me for? A bitch who can’t handle his own liquor?”

Louis just scoffed, shaking his head and opted for not answering the captain and ignoring the derogatory term. “D’you want to hear what Zayn and I came up with or what?” He asked.

Harry took another bite out of the apple. “That’s why I handed you the paper in the first place,” he said, motioning to said paper. “Read it to me.”

Louis had to bite back a comment about not liking to be ordered around and did as Harry said. “Well, in this one we saw that we could make the crossing to the Kingdom of Sicilia and—“

“No. Next,” Harry interrupted. Louis looked up in disbelief, feeling a little insulted.

“Don’t you want to hear the rest?” He asked. Harry cocked an eyebrow.

“I’d have let you finish, wouldn’t I?” He said matter-of-factly. “Next.”

“Okay,” Louis said with a sigh, grabbing the next paper. “In this one, we thought that we could pass the Philippines—“

“No. Next.”

Louis breathed in deeply through his nose, trying to contain his irritation and continuing with the next paper. This went on for the next few pages, with Harry not even letting him finish his sentences. By the end of it, Harry had rejected every single one of Louis’ and Zayn’s ideas, and Louis had dropped into the chair opposite of the desk somewhere along the line.

“That was all of them,” Louis said with a sigh, sinking deeper into the chair, purposely forgetting about the posture his mother had taught him so adamantly.

Harry looked in thought for a few moments, before slowly shaking his head. “No. You missed one,” he said, grabbing the map Louis had brought.

“What, then?” He asked, rubbing his temples.

“We can copy Vasco Da Gama’s course.”

This caused Louis to look up. “You’ve heard of him?” He asked, sitting up in surprise. Harry just gave him a cold look.

“I’m not some dumb animal. I’ve heard of the men that sailed the seas before me,” he said, motioning Louis over to come to his side of the desk. Louis did so with a dramatic sigh, standing up and walking around the desk. The captain ignored him.

“Look. Right now, we’re right here, yeah?” He said, pointing to a spot near the Mogul Empire. Louis nodded. “Well, if we follow this path...” Harry continued, dragging his finger over the map along the outline of the land. Louis had to suppress a shiver at the sight of his finger dragging over the paper. It gave him some rather unsavoury mental images for later.

“...and we’ll pass enough countries along the way by the time we get to France,” Harry finished, and Louis realised he had hardly gotten any of it. He quickly did a recap of it all, making the most logical path with his own eyes on the map.

“It’ll take us months, if that,” Louis said. “And then you still need to take stopping into consideration, staying into different harbours for different amounts of time, and wind and speed. It could take us an entire year, probably more.”

Throughout his explanation, he hadn’t noticed how Harry wasn’t even looking at the map anymore but instead studying the side of Louis’ face. Louis glanced at the captain, their eyes locking and faces far too close.

“You’re very intelligent,” Harry said, a small crease between his eyebrows. Louis could hardly believe his own ears: the captain was complimenting him, actually complimenting. “For a spoiled prince.”

Well. So much for that.

“You’re not dumb either,” Louis replied. “For a pirate.”

Harry smirked, leaning back in his seat. “What happened to the ‘low-life pirate’?” He asked. Louis rolled his eyes, straightening his back.

“Glad to be of help, Captain,” he said, about to leave when Harry suddenly grabbed his elbow. It prompted him to look at the captain in surprise.

“Where do you want to go?” He asked, letting go again. “Show me. On the map. Where would you go if you had the choice?”

Louis bit his lip, hunching over the map again and searching it silently. Nobody had ever asked him that question, and now that he could answer it, he realised that the possibilities were endless. It made him realise how big the world was, how full and how empty it was all at the same time. All a person was be able to do was right there, on that map. 

“There,” Louis said, pointing to a spot on the map. “There’s where I want to go." 

Harry leaned forward, furrowing his brows in curiosity at what Louis was pointing at. “Cuba?” He questioned. Louis nodded. 

“Yeah. I’ve heard amazing things about it.”

Harry nodded slowly, lost in thought as he leaned back again and went over it all. “We’ll see how long you last on here,” he said. “If you manage this trip to France maybe we’ll go to Cuba next.”

Louis considered his words, going over them carefully. “So, that means you’re letting me stay?” He asked, his grin slowly growing. ”You’re letting me join your crew?”

Harry’s brows furrowed a little more. ”I’m still not entirely convinced on whether you were speaking the truth yesterday,” he said truthfully. ”I can’t be sure if the Navy is coming after you. If they are, those men out there are in serious danger, and I won’t allow that. If a month passes without so much as a whiff of the Navy then you can stay permanently.” Harry paused, a smirk overtaking his features. ”If you’ll still want to, that is.”

”Is that a challenge?” Louis asked, raising his eyebrows slowly.

”Perhaps,” Harry said with a small shrug. “It’s how you interpret it.”

He then stood up, stretching out a little. Louis stepped back instinctively when he got a strong whiff of Harry’s smell, making sure that his body wasn’t going to respond. 

”Head down to the kitchen. You need to eat,” Harry then said, pointing to the door. ”You haven’t eaten since you’ve been on this ship.”

”Aye, Captain,” Louis said, giving him a mock salute as he started making his way to the door.

”Look at you, already shedding your prince skin and using pirate tongue,” Harry called after him. When Louis glanced back he could see a smirk playing on the captain’s lips.

”I bet you get off on it,” he replied wittily.

Then he left.


	3. Sides.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important terminology for this chapter:  
> \- stern deck: also poop deck (the name originates from the French word for stern, la poupe) is a deck that forms the roof of a cabin built in the rear (aft).  
> \- crew mess: crew mess is the dining area where crew members have their breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  
> \- galley: ship's kitchen.

Louis' heart soared with happiness when he saw Niall sitting on a stool and peeling potatoes in the ship’s galley.  
  
Instead of being difficult, Louis had followed Harry’s orders and had gone to the kitchen. He was quite hungry too, admittedly, so it really only provided him with advantages to do as the captain had told him to.   
  
He had wondered where Niall had ended up on the ship, as it was clear that he wasn’t dead. Louis should’ve known that he’d end up in the kitchens. In his short time of knowing him, it was quite clear that he wasn’t exactly the strongest in intelligence, and generally lacked skill in many things needed on a ship. His personality made up plenty for it.  
  
”Louis?” Niall exclaimed when he saw the other, immediately forgetting the potatoes and jumping up. ”Wow, you’re still alive!”  
  
As Louis said: plenty personality, just not a very big filter.  
  
”And you’re not marked either!” Niall continued, slapping Louis on the shoulder, who grimaced. ”Really thought he was goin’ to mark you, mate! Takin’ you to his cabin an’ all!”  
  
”Yeah, yeah,” Louis said, a bit awkwardly. It didn’t overpower the happiness he felt to be able to talk to Niall. ”They put you in the kitchen then, I see?”  
  
”Better than nothin’,” Niall said with a grin. ”I ain’t daft, I know I don’t got a lot of talents.”  
  
Louis just nodded, not really knowing a fitting reply.  
  
“But between you and me, the actual cook can’t cook for shit,” Niall continued with a hushed tone, causing Louis to grin in amusement. “I mean, I try givin’ him advice on spices and all, he gives me this death stare. The food you’re eatin’ ain’t my fault, ‘s’all I’m sayin’.”  
  
It didn’t exactly sound promising to Louis if the food he was about to eat was described to be that bad by Niall. He was hoping that he just had a flair for the dramatic and that the food wasn’t as bad as he claimed.  
  
“About that,” Louis said. “I haven’t actually eaten anything since we got on this ship. Captain send me to get some food in me stomach.”  
  
”Right, right, wait here!” Niall said, turning around. ”Sit on me chair! I’ll get you some food!”

Louis sat down on the stool Niall referred to, watching as the Irish boy grabbed a plate and, what seemed to be, random items of food. 

"Sorry, mate, Captain's orders," he said when the man who Louis assumed to be the cook glared in irritation at Niall's 'stealing'. Louis' mouth twitched in amusement at the sight. Somehow, the other Omega always managed to make him smile a little. It was a sort of gift he had, or just simply an effect on Louis. Either way, Louis was glad about it.

Niall handed Louis the plate of food, grabbing another stool and sitting down beside Louis. The plate considered out of bread, cheese and a small bit of beef. Louis' manners were completely forgotten when he got hold of the plate, and he wolfed down on the food shamelessly.

"So, tell me about the captain, eh?" Niall said, nudging Louis' leg in excitement. "I've yet to properly meet him."

Louis thought about it for a moment, exhaling shortly. What was Harry like? There were many ways for him to answer that question because there simply many different sides to the captain. Louis had seen him when he shot the others from the ship he had been prisoner on, he had seen him when he was drunk, when he was actually bantering with one of his close friends, he had seen his intelligent side when he came up with a course for France... there were so, so many different sides and Louis just didn't know which one was Harry, _truly_ Harry. But then again, maybe it was all those sides that made him Harry.

"He's very... Alpha," Louis said thoughtfully, careful with his words. He ought it best to be vague than to go into depth about who Harry was. He didn't think the captain would appreciate it much, and Louis didn't exactly know him very long to make a good judge of character. "He's also kind of difficult to figure out. One moment he's... a dick--" Niall snorted. "--the next he's jokin' around with me. I don't understand him."

"He's keepin' up the mystery vibe, ain't he?" Niall said, laughing in amusement. "I'm surprised you didn't escape from that cabin earlier, you know. You seem like the type."

Louis groaned dramatically, earning a surprised look from Niall. "Why does everybody keep saying that? 'I'm the type', what does that even mean?" He asked.

"Well, your kind of... feisty, I guess. You've got this aura of..." Niall paused, motioning to Louis vaguely. _"You_ , I guess."

Well, that didn't help at all. 

"Wow, thanks," Louis said, shaking his head as he swallowed the rest of his bread, and with that, the last on his plate. It hadn't been very tasteful, but it had filled his stomach. 

"Sorry, I know that was a shit answer," Niall muttered, scratching the back of his neck. "It's just... when I tell you that you're the type, don't take it the wrong way."

"I won't, Niall," Louis said, waving his hand dismissively. "I know you mean the best." He then grinned widely. "You seem like the type."

Niall returned the grin as Louis stood up again, putting the plate on another stack of plates. "You should wash those. Might cheer up the cook," Louis said, nodding to the dirty dishes. His friend just rolled his eyes.

"Alright, cabin boy, I do that, then you can go ahead and write letters for your captain,"  he replied easily. Louis just flipped him off.

"Your captain too," he said and then disappeared out of the galley again.

When he got to the main deck, the sun was already lower in the sky. The sunset was about to set in. He climbed up on the quarter-deck and then on the stern deck, which was the most elevated part on the very back of the ship. It gave him the perfect view of the sunset. Or, the approaching sunset, rather.

Louis allowed a deep sigh as he leaned on the balustrade with his forearms. Even though he could still hear the crew behind him, it was serene. There was the sound of the waves below him, the sound of the crew behind him, and the view of the entire world in front of him. It was incredible. It made him understand why people chose this life. His life in the palace, it couldn't compare to this. He thought he was living his best life, with servants to help him with everything, food enough for him to suffocate him and money enough for all he wanted to do. Here he had little to no privacy, barely any hygiene, barely any food, and no money, and he ought it the best life. The only thing missing were his sisters and his mother. They would make it the perfect picture. He didn't know much about the pirate life, but he did know he was really starting to like it.

Freedom, that was the thing he loved most about it so far. Or, well, the idea of freedom. He had yet to truly experience the freedom that came with sailing the seas. He was technically still a slave, a sex slave, and would be one until Harry would destroy the documents. Something in him told him that Harry wasn't going to.

He stayed like that for a while. By the time the sun was just barely kissing the sea, slow, sauntering footsteps approached from behind. Seconds later, Harry appeared beside Louis, placing his loosely clenched fists on the balustrade.

"Enjoying the view?" He asked, yet again that disinterested tone in his voice. Louis was already starting to get used to it.

"Preparing myself before I have to return to your cabin and write your letters for you," he easily replied. One of the corner's of Harry's mouth twitched up.

"You haven't written anythin' for me yet," he said, the disinterest slightly faded into amusement.

"Yet," Louis said.

They glanced at each other, breaking out into full smirks as they looked at the view again. When it got quiet between them, it dawned on Louis that he had yet again met another side of Harry. It was starting to make him dizzy how many sides there were. Even though he had seen so many sides, he didn't feel like he was any closer to knowing Harry better. To him, Harry was still that same merciless, cold captain that shot other people in cold blood because they didn't suit his plan for the future. Louis just wasn't going to act like he saw Harry as that, as he knew that it would prevent him from ever getting to know the captain better.

"I'm going to need you to give my dagger back," Harry suddenly said. Louis looked at him in surprise, quickly hiding it with feigned innocence.

"What?" he asked with an innocent tone that matched his expression.

"I know you took it from my cabin," Harry said, holding out his hand. "Give it back before I'll take it from you with force."

His tone of voice was joking, but there was a hint of seriousness under it that made Louis lift his shirt and take out the knife from under his belt, putting it in Harry's open hand. He noticed how the captain's eyes lingered on his skin for a little longer than necessary.

Harry put the gun under his own belt, rolling his neck around with a small groan and erupting small pops from his joints. Louis had to force himself to look away from the captain, which the latter obviously noticed.

"You miss your family yet?" he asked, glancing at Louis with a cocked eyebrow that was most definitely directed at his stubborn gaze at the sunset. "They usually do by now."

"They?" Louis questioned, his voice a little more strained than he'd have liked. He needed to get himself under control, and quickly.

"The new ones."

Louis snorted sarcastically. "Guess I'm not like them then," he said. "'cause I don't. Miss them, I mean."

Harry nodded slowly, clearly not believing his words. "You will eventually. Everybody misses their family at one point after choosing this life," he said, pausing for a moment. "Even I did." Another pause. "Still do."

This prompted Louis to look at the captain, taking his forearms of the balustrade and straightening his back. He had never considered that the captain used to live a different life, had a family of his own and used to have a youth.

"Is it... bearable?" Louis asked carefully, knowing he was on thin ice. He knew that this was Harry opening up a little, and he knew that if he was too straightforward he would shut down immediately again. This could be Louis' only chance at getting the captain to talk, genuinely talk, and if he didn't mess it up, maybe it could happen again. Maybe, he could not just see sides, but see the real Harry. Maybe.

Harry thought about the question for a little while. It took him so long, that Louis was starting to think that Harry was just ignoring his question and wasn't going to answer anymore. But he did. "In some aspects, no. In some aspects, yes," he said, licking his lips as he thought about his next words.

He talked slow, slower than he usually did. He always talked slow, and that was something everybody noticed instantly, but now it was slow enough to sound almost lazy, if it wasn't for the look in Harry's eyes, which were filled with a deep and fierce emotion that Louis was unable to recognise, was unable to figure out.

"You're used to talking to them at certain moments in the day, like referencing something you did together when you were younger," Harry continued. "Like, during breakfast, when you're used to saying good morning to them, or when you're feeling like shit and need someone to talk to... but, they're not there. They're never there anymore. And that hurts, that can be unbearable. It makes you wonder if this life is worth it, but wondering doesn't make any difference because you can't go back home ever again. You took that opportunity away the moment you chose this."

Louis listened to Harry's words closely, unconsciously leaning in closer as he talked. Harry glanced at him, their eyes locking. They looked at each other for a few moments. "You're very well-spoken," Louis gently said. Harry gave him a small smile. It was small and barely noticeable, but it was a smile. An actual smile. Not a smirk, like he always had.

And then something flickered in Harry's eyes, and Louis instantly knew what it was. Harry felt like he'd shared too much. His expression went cold again, disinterested, and his back straightened and he took his hands of the balustrade, clearing his throat. "You should go to the crew mess. The cook's serving soon," he said, staggering a few steps back. 

"You're not joining?" Louis asked, almost desperate for the conversation to last just the slightest bit longer. Almost.

"I'm eating in my own quarters tonight," Harry answered, his voice curt. 

"I'll... see you after dinner, then?"

"No. I'm staying in my cabin for the rest of the night."

This caused Louis to realise that he wasn't going to sleep in Harry's cabin anymore. The only reason he probably was, was because he was chained to Harry's bed. His place was in the sleeping quarters, amongst the others in the crew. He was part of the crew, it was only logical and fair to sleep amongst the rest of the crew.

"What?" Harry asked when he saw Louis' face. The latter shook his head dismissively. 

"Nothin'," he said. "I just remembered how Niall told me that the food was pretty bad."

Harry snorted, and it sounded so fake that Louis knew that Harry knew it sounded fake, turning around and actually starting to leave. "If that ain't the truth," he said, more to himself than to Louis, and then jumped off the edge, onto the quarter-deck and then the main deck. Louis could only watch him go, left behind in wonder about the captain. 

Because he'd just met yet another side of Harry Styles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a very large chapter. I'll try to make the next one a bit bigger.


	4. Attacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think there are any warnings, though there is some very strong disrespect in here towards Louis, which could be considered as serious misogyny if he were a woman.   
> There is also a pretty serious injury in this chapter, nothing too detailed, but it could still be considered uncomfortable. Read at your own risk.

It was a full week later. There hadn't been another conversation like the one from that night, and Louis was nearly convinced that it was the first and last he was ever going to have with Harry. It disappointed him a bit, because for a moment he had thought he was getting closer to the captain. But Harry hadn't even mentioned it anymore. He only talked to Louis when he needed him to write something or read something to him, when he needed Louis to go down to the hold to check on the cargo and write a report on it. It made him feel fucking awful to know that Harry was ignoring him, because there was no other way to put it. He was ignoring Louis, avoiding him to a certain extent, and he knew why: he felt uncomfortable around him. Embarrassed, even. He thought he shared too much that evening, even though he had really shared very little. Louis personally felt fucked over, as it had seemed for just a moment that Harry had actually wanted to get familiar to him, only to go back on that decision so quickly that it felt to Louis like he was made out of fire, and Harry had burned himself on him. 

Because Harry had ignored him and only talked to him when he absolutely needed to, he wasn't aware of the way people were treating Louis on the ship, which was like absolute rubbish. Louis didn't expect people to immediately like him. It made sense for people not to instantly take a liking to another person. But what he did expect, what he was taught to expect, was that people respected him. He was royalty, and like he had said: he'd been taught to expect to be respected.

Nobody on the ship, apart from Niall, respected him. Not even a little, like one would with a normal person. You didn't need to be a monarch in order to be respected.

During his very first, actual dinner on the ship, somebody had pushed him hard enough for the food to stain his clothes, forcing him to wear something that was discarded on the ship by somebody a long time ago. It was too big and smelled repulsive. Only a day later he was humiliated by a member of the crew who thought it was funny to rip his shirt open and pour rum all over his exposed chest whilst his drunk friends laughed along. He had also been forced on men's lap countless times, who then proceeded to smell his gland and brag about how they were going to mark him, only to be warned by other crewmembers that he was Harry's property ("He's cap'n's Omega, ain't he, mate. Markin' him is like askin' for ye death.") and being pushed off again. He was being treated like a genuine sex slave, though the only thing missing was the actual sex. Not that Louis wanted to have sex with anyone on the ship, God no.

But no matter the disrespect, he didn't expect it to lead to another crew member threatening him with a dagger whilst his forearm was already bleeding unwaveringly.

But he was getting ahead of himself.

Dinner was essentially dull. He was sitting with Niall and Zayn at a table in a  secluded corner in order to avoid getting pulled on another person's lap again, eating what Louis recognised something to be like the food he gave to the dogs in the palace. But he knew that it was the food he was going to be eating from now on, and knew that he'd better get used to it quickly, so he forced it down his throat and forced himself to like it even just a little bit.

"So, which course did he choose, Louis?" Zayn asked, referring to Harry's pick of the courses they had come up with. Louis realised he had never gone back to Zayn on Harry's decision, even after a full week.  "I know how picky he can get, so."

"None of them," Louis said, wincing when a piece of beef stuck in his throat a little too long. "He came up with his own, sort of. Vasco Da Gama's course's the one we're going to be following."

Zayn groaned, shaking his head. "Shit, why didn't we think of that?" he muttered. Niall looked between the two of them in confusion.

"Vasco who?" he asked. Louis and Zayn gave him a look, but he seemed to be serious about his question.

"A Portuguese explorer," Louis explained. "He was the first to reach the Indies?"

"Oh, yeah, right, I knew that," Niall said, blowing raspberry as he waved his hand dismissively. "Of course I knew that."

Louis tried to meet eyes with Zayn to give him an exasperated look, only to find his eyes trained on something on the other side of the room. When he followed his line of vision, he saw that it wasn't a some _thing_ he was looking at, but a some _one_. It was a guy who Louis could only describe as something of a harmless animal. He had soft, crinkly eyes and a warm smile. His hair was sandy blond, and looked to be the type of person who was always happy. "Who's that?" Louis asked, causing Zayn to snap his head at him with widened eyes.

"What--who?" he stammered, earning an eye roll from Louis.

"That guy you're ogling. Who is he?"

Zayn spluttered. "I wasn't ogling, thank you very much," he countered, his voice an octave higher than normal.

"Okay, longingly staring at, then," Louis said. It made Zayn produce a sigh and a shake his head. 

"You're insufferable," he muttered. "But to answer your question, he's the medic on this ship."

It didn't explain a lot to Louis.

"And an Alpha," Zayn then sheepishly added, his cheeks a little reddened.

Oh. Now that definitely explained a lot. 

He leaned closer shamelessly, sniffing Zayn even more shamelessly, who watched him with raised eyebrows. "Well, you're not bonded with him," Louis said, leaning back and giving Zayn his personal space back. "Do you want to be bonded that desperately? Do you _actually_ want to be marked?"

"Well, I can't help it, can I?" Zayn said with a snappy undertone, getting defensive against Louis' judging tone of voice.

"It's our biology, innit," Niall added, siding with Zayn. "I get it. We're surrounded by Alpha's on this ship, like, more than usual. Kind of gettin' an urge too."

Louis had to give that to him. There were a lot of Alphas on the ship. A lot of Betas too, but more Alphas than usual. Perhaps that was Harry's intention, to have a lot of Alphas in order to have a stronger crew, a more loyal crew. 

"Aren't you, Louis?" Zayn asked. "I mean, don't you want to be bonded, _marked_ by the Captain?"

"Excuse me?" Louis said, his eyebrows shooting up at the implication.

"Well, you're around him all the time, and he's pretty much flaunting his Alpha wherever he goes. And you smelled like him when we were making the courses too. It'd make sense."

That was something Louis couldn't help. He had slept in Harry's bed, for God's sake. It made sense for him to smell like him. He couldn't say it out loud, however, because that would just raise some eyebrows from the others. Sleeping in Harry's bed, that would just insinuate a lot of things that he didn't want to talk or even think about.

"I don't want to be bonded," Louis resolutely said. "Not now, not ever. I don't want to become some sort of a submissive bitch just because an Alpha bit my neck."

"We are bitches, Louis," Niall pointed out. He literally pointed it out, using his substitute fork. It used to be a spoon, but was now sloppily carved into a fork. It was quite creative, admittedly. "Male bitches, remember?"

"In the evil and degrading eyes of the hierarchy, yes," Louis said. "Sorry, but I'm not going to let myself be called a bitch just because my gender happens to be different from others."

Zayn and Niall didn't know how to reply to that, just nodding in defeat. He made a pretty good argument, Louis reckoned. And about the bonding, he had been speaking the truth. He didn't want to be bonded, because of that exact reason he had just named: it would turn him submissive. And he didn't want to be submissive. He didn't want to be the very definition of a bitch male. He didn't want to be marked, biology or not.

Somebody very special was going to have to come by for Louis to change his stance on bonding.

 ༻♛༺

That same night, Louis was down in the sleeping quarters when the next level of disrespect was too much, even for Louis. He was minding himself, trying to find someplace to sleep, only to accidentally bump into another man. He was a lot bigger than Louis, both in height as he was in width. He was muscled, about as tall as Harry, with tattoos all over his arms. He had long hair that reached just to his waist, a nearly black colour, and was probably the ugliest man in the world. He was also an Alpha, and smelled faintly of alcohol. Then again, everybody on the ship smelled like alcohol.

"'Scuse me, mate," Louis muttered out an apology, trying to pass the man, only for the latter to turn to him fully and take up the narrow path with his entire body. Louis stepped back immediately, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "Alright, let's not... I'm just tryin' to pass."

"Apologies first, princess," the man said with a disgusting smirk. The moment he opened his mouth, a pungent smell of alcohol reached Louis' nose, who immediately knew that the man was utterly pissed. A lot of the pirates were, but this particular man seemed to have a particular love for rum.

"I beg your pardon?" Louis said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "I ain't-a princess, mate."

"You sure look like it to me," the man replied, taking a step closer. "You're a bitch just beggin' to be mated, aren't ya?"

"No, thank you, and even if I was, I definitely wouldn't let myself get mated by a disgusting pig like you," Louis snarled, trying to pass the man again by trying to push him aside, only to be pushed back roughly, a knife suddenly aimed at his stomach. Louis refused to let fear get to him.

"The fuck you just say to me, bitch?" The man said, his hand holding the knife trembling slightly with anger.

"I said..." Louis said because he wanted to die, evidently. He brought his face closer with a snarl in a blatant demonstration of lack of fear or intimidation by somebody who wasn't even half Louis' worth. "I'm not going to let myself get mated by a disgusting, filthy, low-life, peasant pig like yourself."

The man let out a roar, swinging his knife up. Louis instinctively cowered back in fear, bringing his arms up to his face to protect himself, only for his arm to sting in the most horrific pain he had ever felt. He exclaimed in pain, grabbing his injured wrist on instinct that was bleeding unwaveringly. Just as the man started to swing his knife around again, a fist suddenly collided with his face. The man dropped his knife on the floor, and Louis' saviour immediately grabbed it, holding it against the man's throat. Louis identified him as the medic Zayn had been staring at during dinner.

"The fuck--" the man muttered, though it was barely audible due to his heavy slur from the alcohol. 

"Walk away, mate," the medic said, pressing the dagger even closer. "Walk away, before I either kill you, or tell the captain about your... _mistake_. Don't think you'd want either, would you?"

"'s'alright," the man said, just as he was released again. He stumbled back, holding his hands up in a weak defence. "Just messin' about, mate," he muttered, turning around and walking out of the sleeping quarters, stumbling up the stairs.

The medic released a breath, turning around to face Louis with a small smile. "You alright?" he asked.

Louis, whose sarcasm never lessened, not even when he was injured considerably badly, replied easily: "Yeah, apart from having my life was almost taken and the fact that I'm bleeding out as we speak, I'm doin' absolutely superb."

The medic chuckled, shaking his head. "Sit down," he said, pointing to a crate behind Louis, who decided that obeying him would be the smartest thing to do, considering that if anyone could help his injury, it was him. "I'll check your arm out, if that's alright?" he said. "I'm the medic on this ship."

"Yeah, Zayn told me that," Louis muttered, holding out his arm as his saviour reached for a crate and pulled it in front of Louis, sitting down on it and carefully taking hold of his arm. 

"Zayn did?" He asked with a hopeful smile, an odd glimmer in his eyes. Louis just nodded.

"He did," he answered. "Nice lad, he is."

"I know," the medic said, then shook his head a little, snapping himself out of his own thoughts that were starting to overtake him. "My name's Liam, by the way."

"Louis."

"Yeah, believe me, I know," Liam said with a small scoff, grabbing a bottle of rum from somewhere beside them. Louis ought it best not to question where the bottle exactly had come from, and where it had been. "You're the Prince that was forced into Omega trade. Kind of difficult not to know you. Hold still, this might hurt."

Louis hissed when Liam suddenly poured the bottle's contents on his wound, the liquor stinging it horrifically. "Might hurt?" he said through clenched teeth still managing sarcasm even through the pain. Liam gave him an apologetic smile.

"Can't have it get infected," he said, putting the bottle down and standing up. He walked over to one of the hammocks, reaching into it and grabbing a bag from under a dirty blanket. The bag was made out of leather, and it looked old and worn out. He reached into it, taking out a cloth shredded into a long, thin piece. He sat down in front of Louis again, on top of the crate. "Don't worry, it's clean, I always make sure of that," he quickly said when he saw Louis' questioning look at the rag that was going to be used as a bandage. "Shit, he got you good. Captain's not going to be happy with all that blood staining the wood."

It rhymed. Louis didn't comment on it out loud. He instead glanced at the deck, seeing the considerably big puddle of blood already staining it. His mind flashed to the events that happened only seconds before, the man waving his knife around and cutting Louis' arm. It flared up his own anger, that he had been so helpless, so defenceless against the man. He had nothing on him, he knew that, and that angered him. Made him feel weak, like he needed to be taken care of. He didn't. It was also of such pure disrespect, the type that he had never come across on in his entire life, and that only added to the anger.

"I should have him hanged for what he did to me, the brute," Louis muttered furiously as Liam started wrapping the rag around his arm, referring to the man that had injured him.

"Right, 'cause that would change everyone's view on royalty here," Liam countered with a look. "You're not exactly popular here. They know you're royalty. Royalty treats us like filth."

"Can you blame us? You steal, and plunder and kill," Louis said, getting defensive. He wasn't sure whether to like the medic with his whole attitude towards monarchs.

"Well, first of all, stop saying 'us'. You're a pirate now--sort of, part of _us_ , so refer to royalty as royalty, and not 'us', alright?" Liam said. Louis nodded obediently, finding it fair. "And second of all, we're not all bad. Monarchs like you and your family just refuse to see that."

"You kill people," Louis said, making sure to say 'you'. He hadn't killed anyone. At least, not yet, he hadn't. In a realistic view of the future, it would make sense for him to kill at least one man. He could only hope that that prediction was to be in the far future, rather than the near. "How does that make you good?"

"So, you think the Captain's a bad person?"

It was a jump in the subject, because they went from pirates in their entirety to Harry in specific. It was a swift attempt, Louis had to admit. It worked.

"He's not good," he then said, finding it a pretty good answer considering the question he got. "He killed those men yesterday. He didn't have to, but he did. Would you call that a good person?"

Liam sighed, pausing his work and looking at Louis for a moment. "When he killed those men on the deck, he didn't exactly have a choice. We can't take in everybody that we stumble upon," he said, trying to make Louis understand and see Harry's point of view. Louis himself was having trouble doing so. In his eyes, Harry was a murderer, a plunderer, _not a good person_. 

"He didn't need to burn the ship. Could've left it alone, let those men stay on it and move on," Louis countered, cocking an eyebrow challengingly. He thought he made a pretty good argument, but when Liam started talking again, he realised that that argument deteriorated quickly.

"You don't let an enemy's ship sail _your_ seas," Liam explained patiently. "It would've been a weak thing to do in the crew's eyes, in his enemies' eyes, in Harry's own eyes. There's this thing called Captain's Honours, and Harry believes in that almost holy. He didn't have much of a choice."

Louis didn't answer, didn't know how, and Liam finished the rest of his work in silence. During it all, Louis wondered about what 'Captain's Honours' exactly was, and why he'd never heard of it before. It sounded rather serious, and it made him curious beyond compare. "Alright, try to find me tomorrow afternoon so that I can check your wound," Liam said, letting go of Louis' arm again, who quickly lowered his sleeve over the bandage. He felt almost shameful about it. "I'm not sure if it's going to scar, but if it is, congrats."

This surprised him. It wasn't a sarcastic congratulation, but a sincere one. So, scars were a good thing, then, evidently. "Thanks?" Louis said, a questioning tone in his voice. Liam laughed, slapping Louis' shoulder as he stood up.

"You'll understand it soon enough, prince," he said. "Scars are what makes a man a pirate."

And then he just--left. Leaving Louis behind to think about his words.

Scars were a good thing, a respectable thing, it seemed. Louis' self-image didn't exactly get any better at the idea of a scar on his arm, mostly because it wasn't a scar to be proud of. He had raised his arm to protect himself from the dagger, not to save somebody, not to stop him--he couldn't even classify it as a scar he earned in combat. And, there was also Loui's own view of his body, and he didn't want scars to be a part of it. He ought them ugly, a deformation in his skin. He didn't want one.

He now had one wrist that was completely purple and blue from the bruises he earned by being tied up to a bed for hours on end, and another wrist that was wrapped in bandages due to a shitty dagger wound. He felt like a joke. Probably looked like one too. He felt fucking miserable.

Maybe this life just wasn't for him after all. Then again, he didn't exactly have much of a choice in the matter.

He was Harry's property.


	5. Rules.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a 'contract' in this chapter, which is written in an old type of the English language. The grammar nor the sentence structure make any sense, but it is the most realistic way. I actually copied it from an actual pirate from the website below:  
> https://www.piratedocuments.com/bartholomew-roberts-articles-1721/
> 
> All credit and rights go to this website.

Louis didn't go to sleep that night, although understandably, considering the threat that had now revealed itself to him in the form of an overweight, tattooed, nasty pirate.

The next morning, Liam had told him that it would probably be best for him to tell the captain about the attempted assault, as he, in literal repeat, could not protect him all the time, and simply didn't want to either. It was a bit rude, but fair all the same. Louis understood that, in this life, one had to fend for himself and couldn't rely on protection, let alone protect another man. After Liam had saved him, he had nearly assumed him to become his personal guard from there on out. It wasn't his fault, really, as back in the palace, in his old life, he had personal guards and regular guards every second of every day. Especially so since he was an Omega, and those were the rarest. Not as though they were hard to come across on, but they were definitely in the least percentage out of all genders.

But Louis wasn't going to tell Harry. It would make him look weak and in need of protection, and he just didn't want to look that way in front of the captain, because he wasn't weak, and he wasn't in need of protection. He wasn't some defenceless little prince, he was a pirate now, and pirates fended for themselves and didn't need protection.  _Louis_  didn't need protection.

At this moment he was with Niall, who didn't need to be in the galley for a little while, on the main deck, watching the calm sea. There was hardly any wind that day, the ship now wanderingly drifting in the middle of the sea until the wind would pick up again. Only then could they accurately continue their course. The crew had gotten restless because of it, not a single man on their stations anymore. It was why Louis didn't expect for Harry to suddenly call him. But he did.

"Tomlinson," a voice called out from the entrance of the captain's quarters. Louis' head whipped towards the direction, his back straightening on instinct when he recognised the voice. The conversation between him and Niall came to an abrupt halt. "My cabin. Now."

Louis and Niall exchanged nervous glances, although Louis refused to actually let the nervous feeling get to him. Harry probably just wanted another inventory done, or something of the like. The only reason Louis was feeling this way was that he was hiding something from Harry, and frankly, he was going to keep hiding it.

"Good luck, mate," Niall whispered to Louis when he passed him. Louis didn't say anything back as he crossed the deck towards the captain's cabin, opening the door and stepping inside without knocking, assuming it unnecessary to do as he was called in already.

He found Harry leaning against his desk with his back, his arms crossed in front of his chest. His gaze was fixated on the wooden floor, snapping up when Louis appeared in the doorway. The door fell closed behind him with a heavy thud. There was a beat of silence.

"Sit," Harry said, gesturing to the chair before crossing his arms again. Louis ought it best to do as he said, and sat down in the armchair. Harry grabbed a paper on the desk beside him, holding it out for Louis to take.

"I need you to sign this," he explained as Louis carefully took hold of the paper, as though it would turn into dust if he wasn't careful enough.

"A contract?" Louis asked, not yet reading it.

"Pirates don't have contracts. We have articles," Harry said. "Read it. Sign it. Learn the rules. Don't forget them."

So Louis read the article.

 

 _ **Captain Harry Styles**  _  
_**Drawn up by the Cursed Oddysey crew as shipboard conduct.**  _  
_**Broken rules are to be punishable by death or marooning.** _

_**I. Every man has a vote in affairs of moment; has equal title to the fresh provisions, or strong liquors, at any time seized, and may use them at pleasure, unless a scarcity makes necessary, for the good of all, to vote a retrenchment.** _

_**II. Every man to be called fairly in turn, by list, on board of prizes because they were on these occasions allowed a shift of clothes: but if they defrauded the company to the value of a dollar in plate, jewels, or money, marooning was their punishment. If the robbery was only betwixt one another, they contented themselves with slitting the ears and nose of him that was guilty, and set him on shore, not in an uninhabited place, but somewhere, where he was sure to encounter hardships.** _

_**III. The lights and candles to be put out at eight o’clock at night: if any of the crew, after that hour still remained inclined for drinking, they were to do it on the open deck.** _

_**IV. To keep their peace, pistols and cutlass are to be clean and fit for service.** _

_**I. No boy or woman to be allowed amongst the crew. If any man were to be found seducing any of the latter sex and carried her to sea, disguised, he was to suffer death.** _

_**VI. To desert their ship or quarters in battle was punished with death or marooning.**  _

_**VII. No striking one another on board, but every man’s quarrels to be ended on shore, with sword and pistol. If any man breaks the rule, he is to be punished by death.** _

_**VII. No man to talk of breaking up their way of living, till each had shared £1,000. If in order to this, any man should lose a limb, or become a cripple in their service, he was to have 800, out of the public stock, and for lesser hurts, proportionately.** _

_**IX. The captain and quartermaster to receive two shares of prize: the master, boatswain, and gunner, one share and a half, and other officers one and a quarter.** _

_**X. The musicians to have rest on the Sabbath Day, only by night, but the other six days and nights, not without special favour.** _

 

By the end of it, Louis felt a bit unstable. He saw rules that were broken almost daily, yet were never punished. "It's very... serious, some of these," he commented delicately. Harry raised his eyebrows, pushing himself off the desk to sit down in his own chair on the other side of the desk.

"How so?" he asked, his gaze intense with a curiosity for Louis' opinion.

"Well, the whole women part being punishable by death and all," Louis explained. "...the fighting part, too."

Harry smiled to himself, as though he was remembering a funny joke. "There's a superstition amongst pirates that having a woman on board a ship when it's at sea would anger the sea gods, bringin’ on disastrous weather and rough water," he explained. Louis' eyebrows rose steadily. "Sometimes men will even throw women overboard, thinkin’ it appeases the gods. I thought to make a rule out of it, make it easier on meself."

He sighed, readjusting himself a little in his chair. He placed his elbows on the desk, folding his hands together loosely. Louis half expected him to rest his chin on them.

"And about the whole fightin' thing, it's really just 'cause I believe in loyalty. There ain't loyalty amongst a crew who beat their own."

Louis nodded slowly, not trusting himself to say anything that wouldn't reveal the attack done on him.

"Sign it," Harry said, a small crease between his eyebrows as he watched Louis. He could tell there was something that wasn't vocally announced yet.

"What if I don't?" Louis challenged, his voice a little different than it usually was.

"Well, usually you'd be kicked off the crew as soon as we're docked someplace," Harry said. "But you're not usually. I suppose I'd just have to come up with something... creative."

Louis refused to let a shiver run down his spine at the thought of 'creativity' as Harry's punishment.

"Why haven't you given me a pen yet, then?" He asked in order to keep his attitude levelled, instead of it crumbling down due to the jittery feeling inside of him.

Harry grabbed his own fountain pen, holding it out, though not far enough to actually strain himself even the littlest. His elbow was still on the desk, the pen in his hand and pointed to Louis for him to grab. It was a way for him to tell Louis that he wasn't going to do anything for him, without actually telling him. It was to establish some sort of dominance, as though that wasn't already clear enough.

Louis had no choice but to reach for the pen. He did so with the arm that was bandaged up, that was supposed to stay hidden from the captain. As he reached out his sleeve rode up, and within a split second, Harry had taken hold of his wrist, pulled Louis up from his seat with the same hold and stood up himself, pulling him around the desk and moving around it simultaneously. Louis looked up with shock filled eyes, finding Harry's nostrils flared and his eyes filled with a fury he had never seen before. Not just on Harry, but on any other man or woman in his entire life. Harry's chair had fallen over from the sudden aggression.

He roughly pulled up the rest of Louis' sleeve, unwinding the bandage swiftly to reveal the wound hidden under it. His jaw gritted at the sight. "Who?" he growled, unable to get out a full question. "Who?" he repeated when Louis' didn't answer, his voice a bit louder now.

"I--I--" Louis stammered, about to describe the man that had attacked him, only to stop himself.

He wasn't a snitch. He didn't need protection. Telling Harry would make him a snitch. Make him seem like he needed protection. It would also make the crew hate him even more than they already did, as it would make it look like he was a rat.

"I can't tell you," he then said with a thick voice. "I won't tell you."

"I've got fucking laws, Louis," Harry said through clenched teeth. "No striking one another on board, that's the regulation. Those who break it will be punished by death."

"I can't tell you."

"Why the fuck not?" Harry exclaimed, his grip on Louis' injured wrist tightening for a moment, only to loosen again quickly, remembering the injury.

"Because--Because it'd make me a rat, a traitor," Louis replied with a similar raised tone, though not as loud. He was a little too intimidated to copy the volume fully. "And I'm neither."

Harry shut his eyes for a few moments, inhaling deeply. He opened them again. "It won't make you a traitor," he said, his voice slightly unstable from the anger and impatience. "And it won't make you a coward either."

Louis' tensed visibly. "I never--"

"I know. But I understand it," Harry said, his tone suddenly softer, gentler, almost... kind. "I've been where you've been, thinking it would make me a coward to tell my captain about the man that attacked me, thinking it would make me seem like I needed protection."

Louis didn't answer. He couldn't. His own shock prevented him from it.

Harry's hand on his wrist moved a little, his fingers stroking over Louis' skin gently, soothingly, questionable. When Louis didn't do anything, his hand moved to Louis', intertwining their fingers whilst still keeping their hands in the air. It made Louis' heart beat faster, but he demanded himself to ignore it and keep his attention on the situation at hand.

"Please, Louis," Harry said so softly, his voice was just above a whisper. "Tell me, so that I can punish him."

"Okay," Louis whispered. "But, on one condition."

Harry nod only a single time, his gaze soft, yet commanding.

"I get to kill him."

And without a single moment of hesitation, Harry gave a firm nod. "Of course."

Louis took a deep breath, something inside of him calming down when Harry squeezed his hand softly in encouragement.

"I don't know his name, but... he had long, black hair and countless tattoos," Louis said. "And he was an Alpha too, and had the complexion of a pig."

A quick, amused smile flashed across Harry's face at Louis' description, before a dark look overcame his features. "Lazare," he mumbled. "The man you're describing is Lazare." There was a moment of silence. "He's never felt right. But I trusted him. He's part of my men, of course I trusted him."

There was something that Louis hadn't expected to see. It was betrayal, written all over his features with a deep intensity. And then Louis did something so utterly stupid, he regretted it almost instantaneously.

He put his other hand on Harry's cheek. There was a tense moment. Then Harry's free hand moved up, placed over Louis', and grabbed it with a type of tenderness that Louis' hadn't witnessed before with the captain.

The regret disappeared.

"Don't hide something like this from me ever again," Harry said firmly, yet the gentle tone of his voice never wavered.

Louis wanted to tell him about the way the crew had been treating him, but he wasn't going to do so. It wasn't the right moment.

"Okay," he whispered. "I won't."

Harry took a deep breath. He then let go of Louis' hand that was on his cheek, grabbing the bandage that had ended up on the desk. His intertwined hand passed to Louis' wrist. Instead of wrapping the bandage around it, however, he brought it to his lips, kissing the skin around the  wound softly. Louis' breath hitched in his throat.

Then he silently wrapped the bandage around Louis' wrist, kissed the bandage again, and then grabbed his wrist carefully, pulling him out of the cabin and onto the main deck. There, he let go again, taking a few steps forward. The crew around him got quiet at his menacing gaze, stopping whatever it was that they were doing. Harry spoke after a few seconds.

"Bring me Lazare."

Almost immediately, men jumped up and started yelling Lazare's name, telling others to look for him. Within seconds, two men came dragging Lazare out of the sleeping quarters. It shouldn't have surprised Louis that Liam was one of the men.

They pushed Lazare onto his knees in front of Harry, whose menacing look never faltered, not for a single second. It got dead quiet on the ship. It was almost like the sea was holding its breath also, awaiting the next thing to happen.

"The hell did I do?" Lazare slurred out. He was drunk yet again. Louis wasn’t even surprised.

A sinister smile grew on Harry's lips. "I reckon you're the one who's going to tell me," he said with a low voice. Then he spread out his arms, looking at the crew surrounding them. "Men!" He exclaimed. "Before you stands a man of dishonour and treachery."

Nobody dared to move, to talk, to even breathe too loudly. Everybody was terrified of the captain. Even Louis.

"This man has broken the regulations I enforce on this ship and expected no consequences," Harry continued. There was something so utterly wrong in the way he spoke, in the way he behaved. Almost like a type of insanity had taken hold of his mind and now controlled him.

"I haven't done shit," Lazare interrupted. This proved a mistake when Harry's gaze snapped to the man, his sinister smile disappearing and pure hate taking over. He abruptly took hold of Lazare's chin, forcing their faces close.

"Are you denying attacking a fellow crewmate?" He hissed. "Are you?"

Lazare's face went pale, his eyes widening as he remembered last night. Louis' jaw gritted at that sight. He remembered. Good. Louis wanted him to, wanted him to relive every single second of it and let regret seep into his pores, the horror of realisation dawning on him. He was going to die. Louis wanted him to feel that utter fear of death, that pure terror of the knowledge of his approaching death, and he didn't care how mental that sounded.

"No, Cap'n," Lazare answered with a tremble in his voice.

"You're not," Harry said, letting go and standing up again, his face filled with disgust and hate. "At least you're an honest treasonous man." He pulled out his pistol casually. "Do you know what the punishment for breaking the regulations is?"

"Please, Cap'n, please," Lazare suddenly begged with a raised voice. "Don't kill me, Cap'n, please. I'm beggin' ya, don't kill me."

Harry chuckled--actually  _chuckled_ \--, and shook his head. "Oh, don't worry, I won't kill you," he said. 

Lazare huffed out a breath of relief.

"But he will," Harry then added, holding out the pistol to Louis. Lazare's expression went back to his horror-filled one at the captain's words, and something surged inside of Louis at the sight as he took a few steps forward and grabbed the pistol out of Harry's hand. He was so fixated on that look in Lazare's eyes that he nearly missed the feeling of his fingers brushing against Harry's skin. Nearly.

"It's only fitting for you to be killed by the man that you tried to kill," Harry said casually, as though murder was such a normal thing. Louis supposed that in a pirate's world, it was.

"He ain't a man," Lazare spat, all previous fear vanished. "He's just a bitch. An Omega bitch."

Louis raised the pistol, satisfaction seeping through him when he saw Lazare flinch just the slightest. It was obvious that he had tried to contain his own fear, and that just made the satisfaction all the more intense.

"Shut up," Louis said through a clenched jaw. "You don't have the fucking right."

Lazare wanted to say something back, most likely insult Louis more, but he didn't, at least smart enough to understand that the pistol could end his life. 

"Nothin' to say now," Louis continued, stepping closer. "Funny that when you put a pistol in their faces, men got nothin' to say."

"There ain't shit that you're worth hearin'," Lazare suddenly snarled.

Louis' finger went to the trigger as he took another two slow steps forward. The man was riling him up, and Louis let him. He let him rile him up because it made him more capable of pulling the trigger. For once in his life, he was going to let his own emotions consume him to the point where it would make him able of killing somebody.

"I shouldn't shoot you," Louis said. "It's much too fast. I should throw you overboard, watch you drown slowly, maybe even get eaten by the sharks."

"Do it, then," Lazare hissed, leaning forward. "I ain't gonna beg for me life, 'cause I know for a fact you ain't got the stomach for it to end it. You're just a prince, a bitch with nothin' to make himself worth my fuckin' time. You ain't gonna pull that trigger, 'cause you're too fuckin' scared. You're a scared little bitch that ain't gonna do shit--"

Louis pulled the trigger.


	6. Feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the sweet comments! They make me so so so happy and it really makes writing a hundred times more enjoyable!  
> Oh, this is a looonggg chapter, so be prepared!
> 
> Important Terminology:  
> \- helmsman: a person who directs a ship or boat.

The sound of the gunshot resonated across the quiet sea, a nearly undetectable echo followed. The pistol smoked as the bullet planted itself in Lazare's chest, right where his heart was. The man's gaze slowly filled with pure horror, his eyes leaving Louis' and turning to the hole in his chest that was gradually being encircled with blood. Then his eyes went glazy, and his body tipped to the side, hitting the deck with a dull thud.

It was the sound of Lazare's lifeless body hitting the deck that brought Louis back from his trance. The moment he realised what he had done, the hand holding the pistol started trembling heavily, his chest suddenly heaving as he took a jarred step back. Harry must've noticed, placing a hand on Louis' lower back and taking hold of the pistol. Their eyes met, Harry's concerned and Louis' wide. His mouth was suddenly dry, his stomach sinking and his heart pounding.

"'S'about time," one of the men suddenly said. It made Louis snap his head to him, breaking his gaze with Harry's. "Never liked 'em. Couldn't keep his hands to himself."

Some other men mumbled in agreement. It seemed that Harry wasn't feeling up for some sort of memorial for Lazare when he took the pistol out of Louis' hand and stepped forward.

"Let this be a lesson for any of you lot who're thinking about breakin' my regulations," he said, his voice oddly loud over the quiet sea. "Louis is part of our crew, like it or not. Treat him like it. Those who don't, well, they know what's going to happen to them." He glanced at Lazare's body, which was now starting to bleed out onto the deck. "Get rid of him. I don't want to see him for a second longer."

It got the crew moving again. Most returned to their stations, the rest got to cleaning up Lazare's body and the blood. Louis didn't move, and could only stare at the man that was killed. The man that _he_ had killed. He had killed somebody, just like that, taken away their life even though it wasn't his to take. He was a murderer.

Harry turned around, taking a few steps forward so that he was standing in front of Louis. "Louis," he gently said. When he didn't react, he placed his hand on Louis' cheek, who now snapped out of his dazed state, his eyes meeting Harry's. There was concern in them, an odd amount to Louis, because he had simply never seen that particular emotion on the captain before. 

"Are you okay?" he whispered, actually whispered, and Louis just didn't know. He didn't know whether he was okay.

"I... I..." Louis stammered, and Harry understood.

He grabbed Louis' hand and gently started pulling him back to the cabin. Louis followed, feeling like something that resembled a lifeless machine. He felt so... empty, almost. He had shot a man in cold blood, no matter whether the man was good or not, he had taken his life without a second of thought about it.  He didn't feel sympathy for Lazare, not in the slightest, but the man was a son. Maybe a brother, a father perhaps, even. He had a mother, a mother who was never going to see her son again, and Louis was the cause of that. He didn't feel for Lazare, he felt for the man's family, even though he wasn't sure whether he had one or not. He still felt for them, an incredible and deep sense of guilt and sympathy. It made his chest feel constricted, making it hard for him to breath, and he felt as though he was going to throw up at any moment.

He didn't realise he was inside Harry's cabin until the door closed behind him. His eyes automatically looked for Harry's, desperately, and the moment they met his, he broke down. He let out a pathetic sob, sinking through his knees. Harry was swift in his reaction, dropping to his knees and grabbing Louis', pulling him into his chest. It calmed Louis down, made him feel safe, because the Alpha in Harry was sending out a soothing pheromone that Louis just couldn't help but respond to.

"You're alright," Harry mumbled comfortingly. "You're alright."

Louis wasn't alright, not at all.

"I killed him," he whispered hoarsely, tears steadily escaping his eyes, though he didn't even need to blink. His shoulders weren't shaking, his mouth didn't make any wailing sounds, his eyes just leaked tears as salty as the sea. "I killed somebody."

"I know," Harry said, his hand raking through Louis' hair to comfort him. Oddly enough, it was working. "But that's alright. It doesn't feel like it, but it is. He hurt you, he hurt others, and he got his punishment from you. The punishment he deserved."

Louis couldn't reply properly, so he instead pulled back and looked into the green eyes that managed to calm him down yet again. He spoke again after a few seconds. "He was part of your crew, and I killed him," he said, his voice thick with suppressed emotion.

"He stopped being a part of my crew the moment he hurt you," Harry replied easily, his hands moving to Louis' cheeks and his thumbs ghosting over his cheekbones. "You're part of my crew too. Don't forget that. Crewmembers don't hurt each other on deck. You've witnessed the consequences yourself, and you've enforced them. That is good, even though you might not see it like that yet. Maybe you never will, but either way, what you did was good."

They both knew that Harry didn't mean the word 'good' as in a good thing to do, but more in a way of doing something that was expected and needed. Not enforcing the rules and not enforcing the consequences of those rules was weak, and would eventually result in a mutiny.

Harry's talk made Louis remember one very distinct thing, the reason why he had been called into the captain's quarters in the first place. He abruptly stood up, Harry's hand falling away from his face and leaving an odd residue of apprehension with Louis, who now approached the desk. He grabbed the fountain pen and the article, and then signed his name under it with more confidence than he had ever felt before in his life. It felt right to sign the article, as though he had been waiting to do such a thing his entire life. Then again, maybe he had. God worked in mysterious ways, He had proven as much to Louis, and for once, Louis decided to fully put his trust in Him. He might as well.

He put the pen down again right as he felt a heat behind him, and didn't need to turn around to know that it was Harry, standing close behind him. But he did turn around, because he wanted to see him, properly see him. He wasn't sure when he'd get the chance again. 

Harry's skin was clear with the exception of a few tiny moles here and there. His lashes were long, but not female-like long. They framed his eyes nearly perfectly. The green between them was utterly mesmerizing, with the darkest green ring on the outer edges of his iris, lighter green filling the rest of his iris and even a brown ring around his pupils--utterly mesmerizing. And then there were his lips, which were so pink and soft looking with the smallest hint of imperfection that just made him so, so beautiful. His nose was big, but not big enough to disturb the beauty it was found in. It just made Harry all the more attractive.

And not Louis' to think about like that. 

Louis dropped his forehead onto Harry's chest without thinking too much about it before doing it and then froze when he realised what he'd done. Even though they'd practically been cuddling on the floor only seconds before, this felt different, more intimate and affectionate. And then, after what felt like hours, Harry's hand moved to the back of Louis' head and started combing through his hair. His other hand intertwined with Louis' without so much of a single moment of hesitation, keeping their hands hanging beside their bodies limply.

"Welcome aboard the Cursed Odyssey," Harry whispered. Louis hardly heard it, only able to think about one thing.

Harry didn't have multiple sides.

He only had two. Captain Styles, and simply Harry Styles. Captain Styles was the man out on the deck, the man that killed others without hesitation and regret, who didn't care about anything that didn't directly affect him. But Harry Styles was the man that was with Louis right now, in the cabin, combing through his hair gently and holding his hand. He was the man that expressed emotions like pain and concern and intimacy... and love. Harry Styles was the real Harry, and Captain Styles was the act that he had to put up in front of his crew.

Louis liked the real Harry so much more than he did the captain. 

"Happy to be aboard."

  ༻♛༺

Louis never knew about the impact that killing somebody had on a person. But now he was experiencing it first-hand, and it was heavy, far heavier than he had expected. It started with the restlessness. He hardly slept during the next two nights. The next thing was the nightmares. Whenever he did sleep, he'd wake up within the next two or three hours in a cold sweat with a pounding heart and his breathing hollow. The nightmares were always the same: Louis would be pointing a pistol at Lazare, who would be begging for his life. It always ended up with Louis pulling the trigger and seeing Lazare’s shock-filled face. He’d glance at the pistol in his hand, which was now suddenly covered in blood, just like the rest of his arm. When he’d look at Lazare again the man wouldn’t be there, but Harry had taken his place, who had a gaping hole where his heart was, blood spurting everywhere and a look of sheer betrayal on his features. It was utterly terrifying.

Whenever he had these nightmares, he would be unable to go to sleep after and often ended up on the main deck to watch the stars and try to clear his head. After this happened for the third time in a row, the helmsman, who went by the name of Ed (“The name’s Ed Sheeran, and that’s about the most interesting there is about me.”), struck up a conversation. He didn’t interrogate Louis on why he was so often on the deck at the strangest hours, only asking whether he was unable to sleep. He found himself quickly warming up to the redhead and considered him a friend.

That was one positive side to killing Lazare: the crew treated him like an equal, and like a friend. He wasn’t the defenceless, little prince anymore, but a proper pirate—a man, he had humorously been told various times. The crew respected him, and some even seemed a little apprehended about talking to him, intimidated by Louis. He was part of the Cursed Oddysey’s crew now, and he felt proud of it. 

But that was the only plus side. 

The negative sides were nearly overpowering: he couldn’t sleep, had trouble eating and his usual sarcastic personality was numbed. It was difficult to believe that he was feeling like this all because of his actions. There had to be something else, there just had to be.

He had no real desire to talk about it all, but there was a nagging in the back of his mind that was constantly telling him that he had to talk about, that this type of thing wasn’t going to disappear without some sort of support. The only person that he knew that could understand his feelings, and that had most likely gone through the same thing as him, was Harry. Harry had killed many men, that was clear from the first day Louis had met him, and from what Louis knew about his personality so far, was that he felt more things than that he liked to reveal to others. 

He was sitting in front of Harry right now, in the armchair in front of the desk, and could ask him for just a minute if only he dared. But he didn’t. There was an odd sense of apprehension within him, preventing him from even hinting at the horrible few weeks he’d been having. Harry seemed to be too busy to notice and just kept reading the letter in front of him. It was about the inventory. Louis had made it a few hours back. He had learned that Harry couldn't read very well. He wasn't bad at it, but good wasn't the word Louis'd use either. He also found out that pirates couldn't write. Their names they could, but that was about it. Not even Harry could write properly, and he was the captain. 

Louis started writing letters for the men on the ship, who said they'd send it to their families as soon as they were docked. It was nice, really. They traded the letters for food and other tradeable objects. Louis made more and more friends with every letter he wrote.

"We have to dock soon," the captain suddenly said after a long while of silence. "Inventory's too low."

"Where?" Louis asked. He had been hoping for that outcome after reading the document. Life on the ship was fine, but it'd be nice to have his feet on solid ground again.

"Madagascar," Harry answered, looking up from the document he was holding for a moment. "There's a pirate colony there. _Libertatia_. It's safe for us." He smiled to himself, then to Louis. "Well, as safe as safe can be."

Louis only smiled weakly. It earned him a frown from Harry, which he ignored by pretending to read the document he was holding. He'd read it for the fourth time now.

"Louis?" Harry said. His voice was firm, demanding Louis to abandon the letter to look at him. "Are you... have you been doing alright? You look tired. Haven't been acting like yourself."

Louis started nodding, about to tell the captain that he was fine, when he realised that he wasn't the one who had started this conversation: Harry had  _asked_ him if he was alright, Louis hadn't just started talking about his own wellbeing. He had the right to talk about his emotions now. So his nodding turned into shaking, and he started talking. Truthfully, this time.

"I'm not alright," he said. "Haven't been eating very well. Haven't been sleeping either, because I keep having these fucking nightmares that are _always_ the same. You don't even notice, even though this has been happening since--" 

He didn't finish his sentence, which was cowardly and childish because it didn't make it any less real. He had killed Lazare. Why was that so difficult to say out loud?

Harry just shook his head at Louis words. "I did notice, Louis," he said. He held up a hand when Louis opened his mouth to say something, successfully and easily shutting him up. "I noticed, but I didn't ask, because I wanted you to tell me on your own."

Taken aback by Harry's words, Louis could only think about one thing: he had noticed him. That meant that he paid attention to Louis. He watched Louis.

"You... noticed?" Louis weakly asked.

"Of course I did," Harry said, as though it was such a regular occurrence for him to notice Louis' distress. "I've grown fond of you. So I noticed. You're also an Omega, so noticing your emotions is even easier. But I'm not your caretaker or your mother, so I'm not going to run around and make sure you're alright every second of every day. That's why I didn't ask."

And, well, that was fair, Louis supposed. "Right," he mumbled, his voice a little begrudged. 

"You're offended."

"No."

And that was that. Well, so Louis thought. Harry didn't seem to agree.

"What're the nightmares about?" he asked, now putting the document he was still holding in one hand down on the desk. He leaned forward a little to show his genuine interest, and, well, who was Louis to hold back then?

"They start with just me and Lazare on the deck," he said, his tone of voice quiet and unusually empty. His eyes were trained on the desk, effectively avoiding Harry's. "I'm holding a pistol to his face. He's looking at me with this scared expression, like he knows what's going to happen, silently begging me not to kill him, give him mercy. And then I shoot. And I look at my arm and it's covered in blood, just like the pistol. I look at Lazare, but he's gone." 

Louis finally looked up, meeting Harry's eyes.

"But you're there. With a hole in your chest. I shot you. Killed you," he now whispered. "And you have this look in your eyes. Pure betrayal, like I had always intended to kill you. Then you die, and I wake up and I just can't go back to sleep because I've got this disgusting feeling like... like it actually happened."

Harry looked at him silently for a few moments, going over his words and trying to make sense of them. "When was the last time you slept properly?" He asked, his voice soft and caring.

"Not since I--" Louis said, vaguely gesturing his hand in the air as though his actions including Lazare were a visible object for them to see.

"Say it," Harry said, looking intently into Louis' eyes. "Say it, Louis. I need you to acknowledge what you did. It's not going to get easier if you don't acknowledge it."

"I know," Louis said, and he did. "I haven't slept properly since--since I-- _killed_ Lazare."

Harry nodded slowly. "It's not uncommon, you know," he gently said. "It's difficult for a lot of men, their first kill. Your response is only reasonable. You'll get over it with time. I'm here for you."

And, wow, that last part was utterly unnecessary but Harry had said it and it struck Louis deeply because it implied so many things. And now Louis had the nearly uncontrollable desire to hug Harry because he just needed to be close to him all of a sudden. It took him a few seconds to realise that it wasn't him, but the Omega inside him that needed to be closer. 

"Can I--I just--" he stammered, getting up staggeringly from the armchair. And somehow, even though he hadn't even finished his sentence, Harry understood what he meant. He got up from his chair as well and passed the desk so that he could get closer to Louis, who was now desperate to get some sort of touch.

It was only when Harry's arms were around him that Louis realised how deprived he actually was in touch. He hadn't been touched by another Alpha in two weeks. The last time was when Harry had consoled him after killing Lazare. Two weeks wasn't a long time, but when Louis still lived in the palace, he had an Alpha in that palace, specifically hired for when Louis 'needed' him. That happened three to four times a week for him, cuddling with the Alpha for a few hours. His body, his Omega, had gotten used it. This meant that ending it as suddenly as it did would result in withdrawals like the ones he now had. It explained why his mood was down more than usual, and why his exhaustion was so strong. It wasn't like he couldn't handle a lack of sleep, but being so utterly tired as he was now was explained easily: he needed an Alpha.

And Harry was an Alpha.

So when Harry had his arms around him like that, all Louis could do was slump against him like a ragdoll, all control over his body gone, a whine in the back of his mind that begged for _more_ , _more_ , _more_. All he could feel was Harry's warm skin against his own and the steady hold tightening around him securely. Goosebumps rapidly rose up on his skin, shiver after shiver wavering his core. The skin under him felt almost too hot but still so, so good. He remembered being held, but never like this. Never had he drowned in the lovely scent of another Alpha before, never had his brain slowed down to such a quieted drawl before that didn't allow to think anything but  _safe_ and  _calm_. 

He felt so, so safe and serene and suddenly he was floating. It was warm and it was quiet and there was no space for worries in his fuzzy head.

After what felt like an eternity but still way too soon, faint voices were making their way through his consciousness. They kept getting louder and more in focus.

"That's it, Louis, come on," a soft voice said. "You're alright. Come back up for us, love, come on."

There was a low hum of encouraging words and the muddy, sweet haze started to lift its hold from Louis' mind. He blinked slowly.

"There you are," another voice said. 

Louis blinked again, and again. He suddenly knew that something wasn't quite right but he felt so good that it was hard to grasp that something. Furrowing his brow, Louis turned his head a bit and blinked once more to clear his vision. It was then that he realised that he was no longer standing, but laying on top of a bed--Harry's bed, he assumed. When his vision got a lot clearer, he saw Niall's face hanging above his at a respectable distance. Zayn was beside him. There was concern etched on both their faces, deep lines in their foreheads that started smoothing out upon noticing Louis getting his consciousness back. The first thing that shot through Louis' mind was  _Harry_ , and he attempted to sit up to find the captain.

"Wow, hey, no moving," Niall quickly said, pressing a hand on Louis' chest and pushing him back down on the bed. "You can sit up in a few minutes."

"What--what happened?" Louis asked, his throat dry and his words slurred, as though he had been drinking.

Niall and Zayn exchanged glances before looking at Louis again with stiff smiles. "You-uh, you dropped, Louis," Zayn said, scratching the back of his neck.

"Dropped?"

"Yeah," Niall sighed out, leaning back so that he was now sitting on the edge of the bed.

Louis had heard about dropping, had been taught what it was the moment his gender was revealed, but he had never experienced it first-hand--well, until now, he supposed. There were two types of dropping that were nearly identical but differed just enough to divide them into two kinds. The first one was when an Omega felt safe enough to drop. It's a sign of trust for an Omega to drop with someone, as they trusted that someone to look after them. The drop ensured that your body gets what it needs. Dropping with the wrong person could end up with serious damage done to the Omega, like forced bonds and rape. The second kind, however, was far more dangerous. This was, essentially, an omega’s way of playing dead when threatened. They put themselves in a coma-like state, sealing themselves off. It's a way of protecting themselves against another Alpha. This was not only dangerous for an Omega's body, which could then be abused, but also for their life. There had been recorded cases of Omegas dropping out of self-protection, and who had never woken up again. They had eventually died due to a lack of food and water, as it was simply impossible to wake them up.

Waking an Omega up that had the second kind of drop was only possible if the Alpha they were with had a close enough bond, or if another Omega helped them. Getting out of it themselves was nearly impossible, which was why the second kind was so utterly dangerous. 

But Louis hadn't dropped because he was in danger. He had dropped because, for some reason, the Omega inside him trusted Harry enough to do so. 

Zayn suddenly got up from the bed, walking away. After a few seconds, Louis heard hushed voices.

"What happened?"

"He dropped."

"Yeah, fuckin' thanks, Malik, like I didn't get that already." 

"What'd you want me to say, then?"

" _Why_ did he drop?"

There was no answer, and Louis just wanted to sit up because that voice belonged to Harry and he just had to _see_ Harry, if even for just a second. So he attempted to sit up, and this time, Niall helped him, and he leaned back against the headboard. Harry's eyes fell on the movements, meeting Louis', and he saw utter concern in them, and Louis' heart clenched at the sight.

"D'you need anythin'?" Niall asked Louis, interrupting whatever moment he was having with the captain.

"I--water?" He stammered, and Niall seemed to understand, reaching for a cup on the bedside table and handing it to Louis, who took a small sip, only to down the cup in one go when he realised how thirsty he actually was. Niall took the cup from him, putting it down on the table again.

"We'll leave you and the Cap'n," he said, standing up. "Just... try not to drop again, okay? Now that you know what it feels like it'll be easier to stop it. I know it feels inviting to drop, but it's not good for your mind."

Louis nodded. He knew that. He'd been taught about this the moment his parents found out he was an Omega. "Thank you," he muttered. "For, you know."

"Yeah, yeah, of course," Niall said, waving it off as he started walking towards the door. "Call if you need anythin'. Food or somethin' like that."

"Thank you, Niall, Zayn," Harry said. Niall looked surprised at the fact that the captain knew his name, but before he could say anything, Zayn grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the room. It was a bit comical, and Louis would've laughed if it wasn't for the sudden tension in the room. He slowly looked at Harry, who slowly looked at him, and then their eyes met and Harry crossed the room in the blink of an eye. He seemed to want to grab Louis and hold him to make sure he was okay, but sat down on the edge of the bed at the very last moment, deciding against it.

"Don't ever fuckin' do that again," he said, shaking his head. "I thought--I couldn't wake you, y'know. You were so far gone. I had to get those two, and even they had trouble." He chuckled humourlessly. "Were a lot calmer than I was, though."

Louis didn't laugh, didn't even smile, but just reached out to Harry's hand and grabbed it. Harry looked at his covered hand for a moment, before turning it around and weaving their fingers together.

"Why did you--what happened?" He asked in a hushed voice. "I mean, I get what happened, but I don't--why? Why did you..?"

"Drop?" Louis finished, a little annoyed that Harry couldn't say it because it was just a _word_ , but he didn't say that aloud as he was the one that had trouble talking about Lazare's death. It would hypocritical of him. "I don't know. My body just... went. My Omega trusted you enough, I guess? I'm not sure. I guess I was just deprived of touch and I--snapped, I suppose."

Harry narrowed his eyes a little in thought. "How used are you to being touched?" He asked carefully.

"We hired an Alpha in the palace," Louis explained. "Could go to him whenever I 'required' it, which was about three to four times a week. So, the last time I was touched by an Alpha was two weeks ago, after-- _after Lazare_."

Harry smiled proudly when Louis mentioned the man, and Louis' heart clenched even though he didn't understand why, but to see Harry smile at him like that made him so happy. Then he noticed dimples. "You've dimples," he mumbled, reaching out to Harry's face and running his finger over the left dimple, the one that was the most prominent, and it only deepened when Harry's smile turned sheepish and a little shy.

"Yes. Very intimidating, I know," he said. His thumb was drawing circles over Louis' knuckles, which sent shivers down Louis' back.

"Very," he replied with a grin. Then he couldn't hold back anymore and leaned forward, pushing his face into Harry's neck who instinctively wrapped his arms around Louis and pulled him onto his lap. He was now straddling Harry's lap, though he could hardly complain: his face was still in the crook of Harry's neck and it was so nice and calm and Harry smelled so _good_. The floaty feeling was already starting to return.

"No, Louis,  _no_ ," Harry said, somehow being able to sense it and pulled Louis head back far enough to look into his eyes.

"I know, I know," Louis quickly said, not wanting to be pushed off now that he was on the captain's lap. His head was spinning a little. "It's not going to happen again."

"It fucking better not," Harry replied, shaking his head, his brows furrowing.

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Being worried about me," Louis said, pressing his forehead against Harry's because how could he not when he was so close?

"That's not something I can just turn off," the captain whispered. He didn't need to whisper but he did, and now the moment was even more intimate than it already was.

"Start trying, then," Louis joked. An amused smile flashed across Harry's lips.

"I'll try. But then you need to stop that, too," he said, his eyes roaming over Louis' face as though he was looking at a painting.

"Stop what?"

"Making me feel."

Louis wanted to kiss him. He really, really wanted to kiss him, but he wasn't going to because his mind was still hazy and it just really, really wasn't the right time to do so. He wanted his first kiss to be romantic and special, not done after he had just dropped and felt drunk from it as well.

"Feelings are human," Louis said, his hand wrapping around the back of Harry's head and brushing through his hair, massaging his scalp, and his heart beat a little faster when Harry's eyes fluttered closed in pleasure.

"Which is why I don't want them," Harry replied. "It makes me weaker. More vulnerable. I'll be less rational in my decisions 'cause all I'll think about is how it'd affect _you_."

Louis knew what that meant. Harry did, too. It was practically a confession of Harry's feelings. Feelings that were romantic, or were turning romantic. Harry didn't love him, but his words revealed that he was beginning to do so. It made Louis feel tired and all of a sudden he wanted to sleep. Long and deep and besides Harry. 

"I want to sleep," Louis whispered.

"You can sleep," Harry whispered back.

"Will you stay?" Louis asked, and he begged for Harry to understand, who looked at him for a moment and then nodded.

"I'll stay," he said, and it was said in such a tone that it made Louis realise that it implied so many more unspoken things.

He laid down on the bed and Harry followed, laying down on his back. Louis moved towards him until his face was once again pressed into Harry's neck, and Harry wrapped his arms around Louis, their legs tangling almost instinctively.

Louis was asleep within minutes and realised that he hadn't felt this safe and calm since he killed Lazare. He felt okay, and it was all because of Harry.

And that was okay, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, this chapter is pretty long, but I was so engaged in the story I only realised how long it actually was by the time I was already at 3500 words. Pretty sure I'm at 5000 now.


	7. Music.

Louis slept deeply throughout the night. When he and Harry fell asleep it wasn't even dusk yet, but the first time Louis drifted out of his sleep the moon was out, peeking through one of the small windows. He kept drifting in and out of consciousness from then on, waking up every few hours only to fall back asleep within seconds. Even though his sleep was not exactly consistent, one thing was, and that was Harry. He was always there, continually. Sometimes Louis was on top of him, then lying on the other side of the bed, then Harry had his arms around him, and one time Louis woke up to find his own arm wrapped around Harry's waist, his face pushed into the captain's back between his shoulder blades. Like he said, consistent. It was pleasant, trusting, and simply felt safe.

When he starts waking up again, it takes a while for Louis to realise that he had slept through the night without a single nightmare. He easily realised that the reason for this was Harry. Sleeping beside the captain had somehow driven the nightmares away.

It takes him a little while to clear his head, but once he manages to do so a bit, he feels Harry's hand playing with his hair. He's laying on top of Harry's chest, who is quite clearly awake and most likely had been for a while. 

"Are you awake?" Harry softly asked upon noticing Louis' nudge of his head against his chest. Louis did it out of pure instinct, burying his face even deeper into the captain's chest.

"Hardly," he mumbled. A soft laugh rumbled through Harry. 

"How are you feeling?" he asked. That returned some memories of yesterday to Louis, like the dropping and the conversation about Lazare and his own wellbeing.

"Brilliant," he said, sarcastic.

"Louis."

"Harry."

The captain sat up, and Louis had to take every ounce of willpower not to push him back down on the bed again so that he could continue to hold him. Louis just laid down on the pillows himself, refusing to sit up. Harry leaned against the headboard, sitting straight up as he looked down at Louis.

"I'm trying to have a serious conversation with you," he said, his brows furrowing a little. Oh, how Louis wanted to reach out and rub away the tiny line between his eyebrows.

"We've too much of those," he mumbled into the pillow. He was still hazy with sleep, which would explain why he was trying to do all those romantic things with the captain, like cuddle him and rub away his frown with his finger.

"You are such a menace," Harry said, shaking his head in a way that Louis could only call fond.

"I am a delight, Harry," Louis replied easily.

"Sure you are," Harry said, reaching out and tracing his fingers over Louis' cheekbone. "Little Prince."

"I'm not little," Louis defended, nudging his head against Harry's fingers and effectively destroying his own statement. "I'm manly and robust. And rugged."

"And intimidating too, I assume?" Harry said, playing along with an amused smile.

"You've assumed correctly," Louis replied. Harry chuckled, shaking his hand and moving his hand so that it was stroking through Louis' hair. He hummed in appreciation.

"I'm glad, Little Prince," Harry said. He was using to nickname most likely to try and irritate Louis, but he rather liked the nickname. It was intimate, sweet, and private. He knew for a fact that Harry would never call him that if anyone else was around. It was almost a way for Louis to secure himself more private moments similar to this. It delighted him far more than it presumably should.

So he just hummed again.

After a few more moments, Harry's touch left him and the captain got out of the bed. Louis nearly whined out loud. He kept quiet, however, and instead watched how Harry walked over to the table in the middle of the room, his heels clicking on the wood until they were muffled by the rug under the table. Louis had never paid much attention to the rug, only now noticing that it looked foreign and incredibly valuable. Spanish, he recognised. 

Harry took an apple from the bowl perched atop the table, inspecting it with a small frown. "I've always hated that fruit rots so quickly," he said, more to himself than to Louis. "What's the point of creating something edible when it rots only days after you've plucked it?"

"Very poetic," Louis called out from his snug spot on the bed. Harry sent him a look, tossing the apple at him. It hit him on the back of his leg. "Now, I reckon that's just rude."

"I'm a pirate," Harry replied. "It's what we are."

He looked at Louis for a few moments.

"Get ready," he then said. "And then go to Ed to tell him where to dock. I assume you've met him?" 

And then he left the room, leaving Louis behind without hearing his answer, who then shamelessly pushed his face into where Harry had laid only seconds ago. He breathed in the man's scent, which should be weird, admittedly, but Louis just couldn't help but do so. 

Then he abruptly sat up and forced himself out of the bed, because he knew that even though he and Harry had been sleeping together for hours now, the captain probably wouldn't appreciate it if Louis would lounge around in his bed all day. He stumbled through the room towards the door as he pulled his clothes around to appear a bit more decent. 

When he stepped outside he had to blink a few times against the bright daylight, realising that it had to be midday. He climbed the ladder to the quarterdeck where the ship's wheel was, expecting to find Ed behind it. The redhead was steering silently, looking out over the broad sea. He grinned upon noticing Louis.

"Louis!" he said. "Finally awake, aye? Heard you slept long."

So, nobody else knew about the dropping. Louis was glad, as he did not want to be seen as weak anymore now that he earned the others' respect on the ship.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, nodding. "Needed it."

"I know, I've been talkin' to you for the past two weeks each night. Gettin' a bit annoyin'," Ed said with a playful wink. "What can I do for you? Don't think y'here for just my company."

Louis smiled sheepishly. "Captain Styles send me to tell you to dock in Madagascar," he explained. "We're running low on inventory."

"Madagascar, huh?" Ed said to himself, looking thoughtful. "Haven't been there in a while. Don't exactly know--Malik!" He didn't finish his sentence as he called out to Zayn, who looked up in surprise from over at his table. "Where's Madagascar?"

Zayn started looking through the many documents, grabbing one and then a compass. He went to stand beside Ed, moving around in circles with the compass and the map in hand, before pausing. "That way," he said, pointing South-East. "...I think."

"You think?" Ed asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yes, more than you do, evidently," Zayn retorted, copying the helmsman's moves as he looked at him. Louis watched in amusement, shaking his head a little. It was obvious they were good friends if their teasing was anything to go by. “I can give you a better answer after I’ve looked at the stars.”

”I believe you,” Ed said, shaking his head dismissively. “You haven’t been wrong since you’ve been on this ship.”

Zayn shrugged, seemingly not good with compliments, and walked back to his table. Louis smiled at Ed as his goodbye, and then followed the other Omega. He leaned against the balustrade as he watched him writing things down on different pieces of paper.

”Have you ever been to Madagascar?” He asked Zayn after a few moments.

Zayn nodded. “Sort of,” he said. “We’re not docking on Madagascar exactly, y’know. On an island nearby.”

”Oh. Didn’t know that.”

”I figured.”

Zayn glanced up at Louis for a moment, before straightening his back and abandoning whatever it was that he was working on to talk to him. “How're you feeling?” He asked.

”I’m alright,” Louis answered. "Still not entirely sure what actually happened, but I'm fine."

Zayn nodded slowly. "You slept with the captain, right?" he then asked, and Louis opened his mouth to defend himself, but Zayn quickly continued. "No, I didn't mean, like... you know. I mean, like,  _slept_ slept."

Louis smiled sheepishly, feeling a bit dumb for immediately assuming. "So, you saw us, then?" he asked, scratching the back of his neck.

"No, I didn't," Zayn said, shaking his head. "You just--you reek of him."

And, well, Louis hadn't even considered that possibility yet. Of course he smelled of Harry, that only made sense considering they had slept in the same bed, but it could easily be misinterpreted. "Hadn't really thought about that," he admitted. 

"Doesn't really matter. You're around him a lot, it makes sense you've got his smell all over you."

Louis looked at him dumbly, before averting his eyes to the table in-between them. "What's the island called? The one we're going to," He asked, attempting to change the topic. Zayn seemed to understand.

"Île Sainte-Marie," he said. "'S not very big. 37 miles long and 6 miles wide. You can cross it in less than a day on foot."

Louis frowned. It meant that the island couldn't be big enough for a proper town, so why pirates chose to dock there specifically didn't make sense to him.

"It's situated in quiet waters and isn't far from the maritime routes we follow," a voice suddenly piped up from beside Louis. He looked up in surprise to find Harry approaching them, coming from the stern deck. "It also possesses an overabundance of fruit and it's provided with bays to protect us from storms."

It was odd that he appeared to have read Louis' mind, but he didn't say so out loud, as the question had probably been clear on his face. "It sounds... unbelievable," he carefully said. "I don't mean that negatively. It sounds like some sort of paradise for pirates."

"It is," Harry said, nodding. He had his hands clasped behind his back, his long black coat creating a great contrast to his bright green eyes. Louis felt taken aback by how good the captain looked, even though he had seen him mere minutes ago. He had cleaned himself up quickly. "You'll like it. Friendly people, lovely culture. You'll fit right in."

"Maybe so," Louis said. "It definitely sounds nice."

"It is," Harry said again. "We'll dock on Sainte-Marie and stay for a few days. We'll take a boat out to Madagascar, and I'll give you a tour of the island. It'll be nice."

The conversation was oddly private for it being so out and open on the deck, right in front of Zayn who looked awkward for not being included. 

"How long 'till we get there?" Louis asked, still not breaking his eye-contact with Harry which was just turning far too intimate.

"'Bout a day-and-a-half," Zayn answered before Harry could, effectively cutting into the conversation and prompting Louis to feel a bit sheepish and ashamed for not including him in the first place. He had judging eyes that flickered between the two men, which simultaneously looked knowing about their relationship (or whatever it was, really)."If the wind stays like this, that is. Usually picks up a bit more at night, so maybe a day."

"Good," Harry said, starting to leave again. "Because we can't stretch out the food for much longer.'

 ༻♛༺

That evening, Louis, Zayn and Niall were sat around one of the empty barrels, which bid the use of a table. From how little they were eating, Louis could tell that their inventory was exceptionally low, and most of the food was nearly unedible from how old it was. Louis could barely contain his excitement for docking: he had never been outside of England before, and now he was on the other side of the world to visit an island that was the size of a house (an exaggeration, maybe, but still. The island wasn't very big). The closer they got the island, the better the weather. It was warm and a bit humid, nearly no clouds that could prevent the sun from beating down on the earth. 

Louis couldn't wait to dock in Madagascar, his feet itching to be back on solid ground instead of the constant swaying of the ship. It wasn't as though he couldn't handle the sea, but it would surely be nice to feel solid ground again after so long. He was also excited about the things Harry had mentioned to him about the island. It occupied his mind so much that he wasn't taking part in the conversation happening right in front of him between Zayn and Niall. From the bits that had managed to filter through his thoughts, it seemed like Zayn was trying to teach Niall words from his native language, but Niall's Irish accent prevented him from pronouncing it correctly. He was butchering the Arabic language, really.

"No, it's pronounced like  _qa-be-ah_ ," Zayn said, shaking his head with an amused look. He didn't seem to mind the fact that Niall was terrible at his language but instead seemed rather amused.

"What's it mean?" Niall asked, after pronouncing it wrong again. 

"It means ugly," Zayn explained. "Like, when a person's ugly."

"Aha," Niall said, turning his body towards Louis. "Oi," he said, causing Louis to look up and raise an expectant eyebrow. "You're _cabiha_ ," he said, yet again completely mispronouncing the word.

" _Q_ _a-be-ah_ ," Louis corrected, pronouncing the word correctly on the first try. "And I'm not, thanks." It caused Zayn to shake his head with an amused smile, and for Niall to frown childishly.

"See? Even Louis knows how to pronounce it," Zayn said, to which Louis frowned also.

"I reckon I should be offended. I mean,  _even_ me?" he said, but was ignored when Niall attempted to defend himself.

"Of course Louis pronounced it correctly! He's a bleedin' royal, probably knows, like, ten languages!" he said, wildly throwing his hands around to accentuate his point.

"I actually only know English. A bit of French, but not well enough to say it's my second language."

Zayn leaned back with a satisfactory smirk at Niall, who sputtered weakly. Before he could say anything, however, a booming voice called out from somewhere amongst the men in the room.

"Oi! Tomlinson!" the man shouted. "Play us a little somethin', yeah? 'M in the mood for some music!"

A chorus of 'Aye' rang through the room, and Louis knew he had no choice but to play something and stood up, causing the room to erupt into cheers. He smiled sheepishly as he reached for a lute in the corner, strumming it a few times as he sat down on a stool in front of the men, who now quieted down with expectant looks. Louis knew he had to impress them, now that their anticipation was so high. He never should've told them he was a musician.

"Alright, I'm not that great, so bear with me," Louis muttered, prompting some of the men to chuckle. He strummed the lute a few more times to get some feeling into his fingers as it had been a while since he had properly played, and then made the stupid mistake of looking up. 

This was stupid because his eyes fell on Harry, who was sitting in the very back. It was surprising, since Harry rarely ate with the crew, but instead preferred to eat in his own quarters, which was understandable: Louis was sure he'd prefer to eat somewhere a little quieter after spending an entire day bossing a crew around.

The captain was smirking into his cup of rum, watching with similar expectancy, and now Louis knew he had no choice but to play perfectly.

So he did. 

He started playing a [melody](https://youtu.be/ji0yG9JHDR8) he had learned years ago in the palace. One of the musicians had been playing it during a banquet once, and Louis had tried to learn it as soon as he could. It wasn't necessarily very upbeat or happy, but it was beautiful and serene and a little solemn. It seemed to have been a good choice, however, when of the men started singing a few lines of a pirate song Louis didn't know. His voice was deep and rough, fitted for the melody Louis played.

"We thus did live most cruelly, and of no danger thought," the man sang, and a few others joined in. Even Zayn, who seemed to recognise it as well. "But we at last, as you may see, are unto justice brought. For outrages of villainy, of which we guilty are. And now this very day must die, let Pirates then take care."

Louis finished the melody not much later after that, which was followed by applause and shouting that Louis ought to be intended as something like whooping--but he knew better than to say it out loud because rugged, intimidating pirates did not whoop, of course.

"Not bad," Harry suddenly said, all heads turning to him and the room falling into a silence. His eyes were only meant for Louis, however, who nervously awaited the captain's next words. "Now play something a little more... cathedral-like. All that melancholy music is making me miserable. I want to feel a little... _holy_ , tonight."

Nobody said anything but instead turned to Louis again, who refused to let the captain make him look like a fool. He knew what the man was doing: he was testing Louis, trying to find something that he couldn't play in order to embarrass him. Louis wouldn't have it, and without saying a word, started playing again.

This went on for a little while, with Harry telling Louis what to play, and Louis, somehow, playing it flawlessly. Most of the men would clap and sing along, some even dancing. Eventually, it wasn't anything more than entertainment instead of Harry attempting to outplay Louis. The crew went to sleep in a good mood, the music effectively having brought some happiness amongst the men.

And if Louis and Harry both stayed a little longer in the crew mess just for Harry to give his compliments and to gently touch Louis' hand, then there was nobody who could say anything about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amount of research that I put into figuring out whether certain terms and music instruments and types of music existed around this time is embarrassing.
> 
> If some of this isn't historically accurate, please just bear with me, I had to listen to lute music for an hour straight to find something fitting lol.


	8. Magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delayed update, but it was my birthday a couple of days ago (the 26th), so I was a bit more focused on that.  
> I'm not going to tell you my age, because I'm way too young to be writing about two real grown men falling in love in a different universe!
> 
> Also, my French isn’t great, so bear with me here!

They were finally docked in Sainte-Marie, but Louis hadn't had much time to properly explore when he and the crew were whisked away to Madagascar.

It was both everything and nothing Louis had imagined.

Instead of taking a boat, Harry had lent a smaller ship that was already docked on Sainte-Marie (Louis later found out the ship also belonged to Harry), and they were now docked in a bay by Mahajanga, a seaport on the very outer edge of the island. It was on the side nearest to what Louis knew had to be Africa. Mozambique, Zayn had informed him. Louis had never heard of it before, but it sounded warm and exotic, which he was starting to prefer to the rainy and constantly varying climate he was so used to in England.

Because Louis knew so little about the island, he decided to stick close to Harry once the crew started leaving the ship to explore for themselves. Harry didn't seem to mind, patiently answering whatever questions Louis had and explaining everything in close detail. To say that Louis as in awe was probably an understatement. He was experiencing something of a culture shock, with all the new people and languages. 

The thing that surprised him the most, however, was how Harry interacted with the people there. He was kind, grinning and joking and seeming at ease, more so than Louis had ever seen with him. He also found out that Harry was fluent in French, the language that the people in the town primarily spoke. The official language was Malagasy, but for trading reasons, the people spoke French. 

The two of them were now walking through the streets of the town side by side, their knuckles brushing against each other every so often, though neither making any move to try and prevent it from happening. 

"What about religion?" Louis asked when he noticed a woman praying whilst looking up at the sky, her lips murmuring a prayer in French.

"Same as you," Harry answered. "One God to worship. They've also got these values. _Fihavanana_ , _vintana_ and _tody_ : solidarity, destiny and karma. They also believe in Hasina, which is the, uh, the concept of sanctity and imbued authority in the traditional culture. Something like that."

The way that Harry talked about it revealed his genuine interest in the topic, but there was an undertone that made Louis feel uneasy, like something wasn't quite right. "Same as me?" He then repeated, as though it was such a clear representation of what he was trying to ask. "Do you have a different religion, then?"

Harry shook his head, his expression solemn. "I don't believe in a God. Not because I find it implausible, but because I don't want to believe in Him. Who would want to believe in a man that kills little children, hurts innocent people, make them live in the worst conditions imaginable?" He paused for a moment. "I don't want to worship a man like that."

And all Louis could think of, was how utterly different Harry was. He was so effortlessly him, it was nearly unbelievable. He had to be the only man on earth who didn't believe in God, who didn't pray and who didn't follow Him. Louis was sure that that was the turning point for him, that from then on, his feelings really started developing. He didn't know it at the time, however.

Before he could reply, a little girl suddenly ran by, tripping right as she passed them. She fell right at Harry's feet, and Louis wasn't really sure what he expected, but he detested his own surprise when Harry crouched down to the girl's level. 

" _Bonjour_ ," he said, not a single hint of an English accent. " _E_ _st-ce que ça va?_ "

The girl looked on the brink of the tears, shaking her head. From the little French Louis knew, he assumed Harry had just asked her whether she was okay. 

" _Tu t'appelles comment_?" Harry then asked.

"Fleur," the little girl replied.

"Fleur," Harry repeated with a soft smile. " _C'est un beau nom."_

Fleur smiled shyly. Harry then held out his hand for her to take, and carefully pulled her to her feet. " _T_ _rouver ta mère pour moi, d'accord? Elle s'inquiète pour_ _toi._ " Harry said, and the girl nodded, mumbling a small " _Merci_ ," before running off again, nearly tripping again.

"What did you tell her?" Louis asked as Harry straightened up again, who smiled.

"To go back to her mother," he said. "That she's worried. I don't know if she is, but I reckon so."

Louis smiled at his words. "Very caring," he teased lightly, careful with his words in case he'd accidentally offend Harry. He didn't appear to be offended when he grinned bashfully.

"Come on," he mumbled, actually looking a little embarrassed at his moment of vulnerability. "There's somebody I came here to see. I think you'll like her. You have very similar personalities."

Louis stuck a little too long on the 'her' part, an odd twisting in his gut when Harry smiled fondly. He had to seriously suppress the desire to make a sarcastic comment about the woman the captain had mentioned. Jealousy felt disgusting.

After walking for a few minutes and going through narrow streets, Harry and Louis entered a tiny shop hidden between much bigger shops. The moment they walked in, Louis felt as though he had walked straight into a wall of heavy scents. He could smell flowers, cinnamon and something that really tickled his nose. The rest of the shop was filled with books, candles, incense and a bunch of things that Louis didn't recognise. It reminded him of some sort of witch shop.

A woman suddenly appeared from the back, holding a book that was bigger than her head. " _Bonjour! Désolé pour le désordre! Je suis--_ " she cut herself off when she noticed Harry, a bright smile taking over her features. "'Arry!  _Ça fait longtemps, dis donc!"_

"Alice," Harry greeted back calmly as the woman, apparently named Alice (which didn't sound very French to Louis), put the book down and hugged the captain. The woman was around Harry's age, and exceptionally beautiful. She had long, blonde hair and bright blue eyes, her features elegant and soft. The only real sharp feature she had was a scar through her right eyebrow. It followed her browbone, right under the arch and separating the arch from the tail. She was beautiful and close to Harry, who seemed just as happy to see her as she was seeing him. Louis didn't know what to do with that.

She was also a Beta, which made him feel the slightest bit better because Alpha's and Beta's generally didn't work out as a couple.

" _Ç_ _a va?_ " Harry asked Alice.

" _Ç_ _a va bien, mon chéri!_ " Alice said, pulling back from the hug again, only then noticing Louis, who was standing around awkwardly. " _C'est qui?"_

"Alice, this is Louis," Harry said, suddenly switching back to English again. "Louis, this is Alice."

"Hi, it's so  nice to finally meet you!" Alice said, all trace of her previous French gone when she suddenly spoke in fluent English to Louis. She even had a British accent. And, finally? What?

She then glanced at a clock on the wall, tutting and shaking her head. "You two are late! I was expecting you nearly an hour ago."

"Expecting us?" Louis asked, a whirlwind of questions stuck on his tongue. She didn't even know him, so how could she possibly expect Louis? Harry, sure, but him? And what was that whole thing on being late? When did they have an appointment?

"Yes," Alice simply answered, turning around and flicking her wrist. The door Louis and Harry had come through suddenly slammed shut right as she moved her wrist. Louis could only stand around in shock. "You know I don't like to wait. _J_ _e déteste ça_."

"Which is why we're late," Harry answered, oblivious to a heavily distressed Louis standing behind him. Alice just shook her head with an amused smile, not flinching even the littlest at the plant in the corner suddenly growing rapidly and pulling out a chair from under a desk.

"You're--you're a witch?" Louis stammered. Alice paused with what she was doing, turning around with a nervous smile, afraid of what Louis might do.

"I prefer the term... biologist," she said. "Which I totally just made up, but. Yeah. _Biologist._ "

Louis couldn't laugh or even smile at the joke, frozen to the spot. 

"I'm not evil," Alice soothed, taking a few tentative steps forward. "I use magic for helping people. I'd never hurt anybody."

"I've heard so many stories," Louis hoarsely said, his hands now trembling. He didn't feel scared like he had expected himself to be, but just completely shocked. He never really thought it was real, magic, but now he was proven the opposite. 

"Stories rarely have truth to them, do they?" Alice said, still careful with all she was doing. around Louis to prevent him from freaking out. "I won't hurt you, I promise. I just, I need you to stay calm, okay? I don't really want to draw any attention to myself."

"You're using magic! That's the perfect way to get attention!" Louis exclaimed, running a hand through his hair. Alice just smiled, knowing she had earned Louis' trust if only a little bit. 

She turned around to face Harry, who was sitting on the chair the plant had pulled out--which was a sentence Louis could never have come up with himself, had it not been happening in front of his eyes. Which it had. What the fuck, honestly.

"Have you been doing any of the things I told you not to?" Alice asked Harry as she started gathering items from all around the shop, some she grabbed and others just came flying towards her. It was an odd sight.

"Do you honestly want me to answer that?" Harry replied, rolling up his sleeve. Alice shook her head, muttering something in French as she turned around to face him and took out a knife.

"What are you doing?" Louis exclaimed, rushing forward worriedly at the sight of the blade.

"Louis, it's fine," Harry said, shaking his head to stop him from interfering. 

"But... what--what's it for?" Louis asked, doing what his captain was telling him and stopping in his tracks. Alice smiled, pausing with what she was doing to explain. 

"I'm helping Harry out with a couple of things," she said. "In exchange for that, he ensures my safety."

"What type of things?" Louis asked, gradually getting more and more suspicious. 

"See it as improvement of my body," Harry said. "Increased strength, speed. The wounds I get heal faster, have a lesser chance of getting infected."

Louis swallowed thickly. "So, all the stories about you being the best pirate in the world are derived off lies?" he asked, feeling betrayed as he met Harry's eyes. 

"No," Alice answered for Harry. "I don't create new skills, I enhance them."

With that, Louis watched how she made a cut in Harry's wrist, whose face didn't twist the slightest in the pain he had to be feeling. Alice grabbed a cup, holding it under Harry's wrist, which she turned sideways so that the blood dripped into the cup. Because the cut was considerably deep, a third of the cup was quickly filled. 

Alice turned away without a word, walking over to the desk and starting to grab different kinds of plants. While she was busying herself with whatever it was that she was making, Louis turned to Harry, lowering his voice.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked. Harry nodded, giving him a reassuring smile as he grabbed a piece of cloth from one of the tables nearby, pressing it to his still bleeding wound.

"This isn't the first time I'm doing this, Louis," he said. Even though the statement was meant to calm Louis down, it didn't do much for his nerves. Instead, it just made him frown as he glanced at Alice, who was either oblivious to their conversation, or simply ignoring it. "Louis," Harry said, earning his attention again. "A couple years ago, when I was just starting my... _profession_ , I ran into Alice while she was being harassed by some locals. I saved them from her, and as a token of her thanks, she performed her magic on me." Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "I was pretty daft, I mean, who the fuck lets some random bird perform magic on them, right?"

Louis smiled weakly at Harry's joke.

"I wanted to keep it at a one-time thing," Harry continued. "But, my body started shutting down. I got really, really ill, and Alice found out that I kept needing it. Otherwise, I'd die."

"So, I was right, then? This _is_ dangerous!"

"Only if Harry doesn't get his dose on time," Alice suddenly said, holding an odd contraption that Louis faintly recognised. "It's a syringe," she explained when she noticed him looking at it.

"Oh," Louis said, nodding. "Blaise Pascal invented it, right?" He had heard the name in the palace a couple of times.

"No. I did. He bought it from me so he could advertise it under his name," Alice said, as she put the contents of the blood in the syringe. What was once blood, now resembled something like tar: it was black but hadn't changed texture-wise. Maybe it looked a bit thicker, but other than the colour, it could pass as normal blood. 

Louis could only grin at her reply, because of course. 

She pierced Harry's skin easily with the syringe, emptying it with a simple press of her thumb. Then Harry groaned. "Fuck, that hurts," he muttered, causing Louis to snort in disbelief.

"Seriously? You let somebody cut into your arm, but you start complaining about a tiny needle?" he said, earning a glare from the captain.

"It's not the needle," Alice said. "It's the blood. It needs to settle in, take hold. And that hurts. A lot."

As though to prove her point, Harry groaned again. "Shit," he said through he clenched teeth, his knuckles turning white due to his tight hold on the armrests of the chair. All of a sudden, his head snapped back, his eyes rolling back so that only the whites were visible. Convulsions took over his body, and if Louis didn't see the calm look on Alice's face, he would've most likely lost it on the spot.

"Is this--is this normal?" He stammered out. Alice gave him a sympathetic smile, nodding reluctantly. 

"Unfortunately," she said as she elegantly moved her hand in the air, causing for the items she had used to start cleaning themselves, flying around the room again. "You're freaked out? Imagine me when I did this for the first time."

"Harry was an experiment?" Louis asked, accidentally using his first name. He knew Alice heard it too when she frowned a little. It wasn't exactly normal for a pirate to use his captain's first name. Her frown was quickly replaced with a knowing look that she thankfully didn't act on, much to both their benefit.

"I suppose, yes," Alice said. "I was so sure I had killed him when this started happening." She gestured to Harry, who was still convulsing and Louis' heart ached at the sight, feeling absolutely useless. "Performing magic on him wasn't what Harry originally wanted in exchange for protecting me, though."

Louis frowned, meeting her eyes. "What, then?" He asked, now curious and doing his best not to look at Harry, because the sight was becoming unbearable.

"Well, when I first met Harry he was part of another crew, and he wanted me to join. He was sixteen when we met: he had a baby face and the strength of a child. He thought that if I went with him, I could use my magic all over the world instead of just here," Alice said, smiling sadly. "But, clearly, there was no way I could. No women allowed. So I suggested this: enhanced physical capabilities."

Louis felt bad for her. He could see the same hunger in her eyes he had too: a hunger for adventure, for seeing the world and learning about it on your own. The only difference was that Louis had the chance to do so: Alice didn't.

"Why don't you just get your own ship?" Louis suggested weakly in an attempt to make her feel better, knowing that the suggestion was worthless because ships weren't exactly cheap. And, that was assuming somebody would even sell her a ship, considering she was a woman, and they were denied many rights. "You could travel the world on your own. Maybe get a crew together of just women!"

Alice sighed softly. "That's nice of you to say, Louis," she said. "But, people hate me. I'll travel the world when people stop hating me for who I am."

"A witch?"

"A woman."

Harry suddenly gasped loudly, preventing Louis from replying to Alice's heartbreaking words. The captain hung his head, rubbing his eyes and his temples. "Fuck, that never gets more bearable," he muttered, looking up again. His eyes flashed for a moment, like a quick emotion. Louis assumed it was the magic officially settling in.

"Are you alright?" he carefully asked. He had no clue what to expect of Harry, how his mood was after... after what, really? How was he supposed to call it? After his 'dose'?

"Horrific headache 's'all," Harry answered, which didn't sound like an 'is all' thing to Louis. "It'll pass in a day or two."

"D'you want me to give you anything for it?" Alice asked, holding up a small vial. Louis was about to take it from her when Harry quickly shook his head. "No, no way," he said. "Every single time I take that it triggers my rut, so no."

Louis felt his cheeks heat up at Harry's words. All kinds of images shot through his mind of Harry in his rut. Louis was with him in most of those images, and he knew that was so wrong because they weren't even in love, for God's sake.

Harry noticed Louis' sudden change in mood and  _scent_ , because he was most definitely getting turned on with everything going on his own mind. Alice noticed too when she looked at him and cocked an amused eyebrow at his flushed cheeks and sudden change in scent.

"Oh, right," she mumbled, a look on her face as though she had figured out some sort of enormous secret. "You're an Omega. I nearly didn't notice, your scent's pretty much identical to Harry's."

Which.

"We should go," Harry quickly said, finally taking his eyes off Louis and turning back to Alice, who was smirking knowingly. "I'll see you in a year or so, yeah?"

"As always," Alice said, her smirk transforming into a soft smile. She hugged Harry, and then Louis, much to his surprise, before grabbing a different [vial](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/1e/ed/55/1eed55461d5b3bd01b7583c83bacf4c2.jpg) attached to a metal necklace. Inside the vial was the same black substance as Harry now had coursing through his veins. She handed the vial to Louis, looking him in his eyes. "Just in case you don't make it back in time. Make a cut in his arm and empty the vial. Make sure you don't miss a single drop."

Louis felt a shiver run down his spine at her serious expression. "How do I know when he needs it?" He asked weakly. Alice smiled apologetically.

"Believe me," she said. "You'll know."

Harry squeezed Louis shoulder with a reassuring smile, and with a last nod to Alice, the two left the shop. As they started walking back to the more crowded streets, Louis put the necklace on, hiding the vial under his shirt. He now had an odd sense of responsibility for Harry, even though it was quite clear to him that the effect of the magic-altered blood lasted for a year, if not longer. Harry trusted him with the vial, didn't even seem to question it for even a second. It made Louis happy, to know that already Harry had so much blind trust in him. 

And when Harry caught him staring and sent him a smile, not a smirk, but a genuine smile and it caused Louis' heart to flutter, he decided right then and there that he was going to look after the captain for the rest of his life, no matter if it was romantically or not.


	9. Newspaper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the late update! I wish I had a good reason, but I actually don't have one and I think that's okay sometimes.

Harry had decided that his headache was too bad for him to continue walking around with Louis, so he had gone back to the ship. Louis had continued his journey with Niall and Zayn. Liam had joined right as they were leaving, and Zayn had been particularly quiet ever since. 

After a while, Louis managed to get him to finally talk, and in doing so, he led them to a pub not very far from the ship. The moment he opened the door, the four were met with boisterous [music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SBATrLRWySg). It didn't sound local in the slightest. It was Irish, Louis recognised it immediately. He expected the pub to be filled with locals, but instead, he saw far more white skin than dark. There was mostly only English entering his ears, not many other languages. 

Zayn didn't stand around, immediately walking to a table in the back. Only a few moments after they sat down, multiple cups and a jug filled with ale was put on the table in front of them by a woman, whose chest was far too exposed to be considered decent. Then again, nothing about the place was decent. The lighting was dim, the tables and chairs incredibly dirty and crammed into the room. It smelled of ale and sweat and something else that Louis didn't recognise. It was hot in the room, too, due to the close proximity of all the bodies and the temperature outside. The candles only added to it. All in all, the room was stuffy.

"Fuckin' hell, the music makes me miss home," Niall muttered, filling his cup and then the other ones. 

"Don't go soft on us, mate," Zayn said with a small grin because he never did so fully. Niall gave him a look, pointing to himself.

"Have you seen me?" he said. "At what point did you think I was tough?"

Louis chuckled at his words, taking a small sip from his cup, only to pull a disgusted face. Liam grinned at his expression. "Don't like it?" he asked. "First time?"

"No, no," Louis said, shaking his head. "I've had it before, just... never this strong."

"Get used to it," Liam said. "That's how we drink it."

We. Louis felt a little proud at that. He was part of 'we'. It made him feel like he belonged, even though it was just a simple word. It was important too him, however, and he was glad other people recognised him as part of that particular 'we'. 

"I kinda like it," Niall said, already filling his second cup. 

"Don't go too fast," Liam warned. "It might not seem like much at first but it'll hit you like a brick."

Niall just shrugged, taking a sip. "If it helps me forget, then I honestly don't give a flying fuck," he said, his words sombre and oddly pained.

"Forget?" Liam asked, furrowing his brows. Niall didn't answer, his face grim.

Louis didn't try to get him to talk, and leaned back in his seat, looking around the room. The men he saw were clearly pirates too. Pirates all had a similar look and vibe about them, but Louis couldn't put his finger on it. 

"Not very local," he said, attempting to start up a conversation.

"What'd'you mean?" Zayn asked, cocking an eyebrow. Louis looked at the others around the table again.

"The people," he said. "They're all, you know. Not Malagasy."

The rest seemed to agree, nodding slowly. "Makes sense. It's a pirate's bay," Zayn said. "This is the only pub for non-locals."

Niall hummed before turning his head to look at Louis, his gaze dropping to the chain around Louis' neck, the vial still hidden under his shirt. "So, what did you and the captain get up to?" he asked, some kind of accusatory tone hidden in his words.

Louis was starting to get sick of his attitude that was changing constantly and randomly, but decided to give Niall another chance by answering with a normal tone. "He showed me around the island a bit. Introduced me to a friend of his."

"Alice?" Liam asked, right as Zayn made a sound of disapproval about the woman in particular. 

Louis frowned, leaning forward a little. "We don't like Alice?" He asked. Zayn and Liam shook their heads, whereas Niall just looked confused.

"You can't trust a witch," Zayn mumbled into his cup. "They're deceiving and trick everyone."

"Wait, a witch?" Niall exclaimed, immediately getting hushed by the entire table as the word 'witch' didn't exactly mean a good reaction from the public. "Sorry, but back up. You can't just brush over that fucking fact like it's nothing."

"She's not a witch, she's a biologist," Louis said.

"The fuck is a biologist?"

"Who cares?" Zayn interrupted. "Listen, Alice is a fuckin' fraud. She's manipulative and deceiving and Styles fell for it."

Liam nodded, agreeing with him. "It's a slippery slope," he said. "And besides, like Zayn said, witches are the type you can't trust."

"Alice isn't like that," Louis snapped, getting annoyed with the accusations thrown around. Alice had been nice, kind even, and had joked around a little and had looked genuinely worried about Harry. She was nothing like what they were saying, from what Louis had seen so far. "She was actually being pretty nice."

"She's a witch," Niall said, because that was apparently the only thing he had gotten from the conversation so far. "She should be hanged, we should report her!"

"Wouldn't say that around the captain," Liam said, his voice low. "He's protecting her from, well, everyone."

"And for good reason. She's helping Harry, there's nothing wrong with that," Louis said, not having it at all. The rest of the table looked at him with raised eyebrows and judging looks.

"So it's Harry now?" Niall asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Louis blushed deeply, realising what he had just said and what it implicated concerning his relationship with the captain. He wasn't about to reveal anything yet, however.

"To me, it is, yeah," Louis mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. He downed the contents of his cup. "What's it matter, anyway? I thought we were talking about a witch."

"A witch that's poisoning 'Harry'," Zayn said, cocking an eyebrow and putting a little too much emphasis on the name. 

Niall frowned. "What poison?"

"She transforms Styles' blood," Liam explained, his face scrunching up in confusion. "I don't really understand what exactly she does, but it's very odd. It somehow makes the captain really strong, but I don't know how. It looks like tar and you have to inject it."

"It's made out of his own blood," Zayn said, shivering. "What kind of fucked up concoction is made out of blood?"

"You mean this?" Louis said, pulling out the vial from under his shirt and holding it up, the vial dangling in front of him. The others looked at it with wide eyes. "Yeah. Alice gave it to me, just in case we don't get to her in time for his next dose."

"Do you even know when that next dose is supposed to be?" Niall asked judgingly.

Louis shrugged, suddenly feeling a bit useless. "Harry'll know," he simply answered, intentionally using the name as he put the vial back under his shirt.

"Really fuckin' reliable," Niall commented, to which Louis glared.

"What the fuck's your problem?" he asked, finally snapping. "You've been nothing but rude the entire time."

Niall didn't answer, looking away childishly instead. Zayn backed Louis up. "He's sort of right," he said. "Something going on?"

Niall shrugged, still not answering.

"Oh," Liam suddenly said, something flickering in his eyes. "You, uh," he mumbled, suddenly leaning over and sniffing Niall, to which he got some confused looks. "Jesus," he said, immediately shoving his chair back to put some distance between him and Niall. "I think you're about to start your heat."

There was a beat of silence.

"I think that might explain it," Niall muttered sheepishly, his cheeks tainting pink as he shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. "A lot, actually."

Louis suddenly felt guilty for not noticing it earlier, as he was Niall’s friend and needed to look out for him. “What are we going to do, then?” He asked, remembering that the ship was filled with Alphas that probably had yet to discover the term ‘consent’. “We can’t exactly let you go through it with a bunch of Alphas around.” He glanced at Liam. “No offence.”

Liam smiled weakly. ”None taken,” he said, looking uncomfortable around Niall.

”Maybe we can prolong our stay here?” Zayn tried, looking at Louis who quickly got that he was the one who needed to ask Harry.

”I’ll check with Ha—the captain,” he said, quickly correcting himself. If the others noticed, they didn’t say anything.

Zayn sighed, patting Niall’s arm sympathetically. ”I’ve got someplace for you here to stay and do your thing, ” he said, to which Niall nodded.

Louis found it surprising how comfortable they were with talking about their heats. In the palace, he was taught that it was a vulgar and shameful thing to talk about or even have. It made him realise how wrong his father was with his personal views about Omegas. Louis was taught that his gender was wrong and shameful, nothing to be proud of. Perhaps it wasn't? Perhaps it was something to be respected by?

”When do we need to be back on the ship?” Louis asked, looking around.

”It goes back to Sainte-Marie at midnight,” Liam answered. ”If you’re not on it by then you have to wait till it returns tomorrow at noon.”

”Don’t worry about it,” Zayn said to Louis. ”You’ll get back to ’Harry’ soon enough.”

Louis scoffed. ”Shove off.”

The rest of the table laughed, Louis grinning sheepishly as he filled his cup again. 

And the whole time after, he couldn't help but feel that yes, this was what family felt like.

  ༻♛༺

”I’ll go find the captain,” Louis said, standing up from his seat and nearly tumbling onto the floor if it wasn’t for Zayn’s quick reflexes that helped him stand upright. He had barely had a drop to drink and was almost entirely sober, whereas Louis, Liam and Niall were completely pissed.

”You sure you’re good to walk, mate?” Zayn asked, frowning worriedly. Louis just waved it off while Niall was in a fit of giggles at his stumble. To be fair, Niall was giggling at everything at this point.

”’m’fine,” Louis slurred out, staggering a bit before standing—what he assumed was—straight up. ”See?” he said, swaying a bit.

Zayn opened his mouth to protest when Liam suddenly grabbed his waist and pulled him on his lap, nuzzling his face into Zayn’s hair. ”He’s fine,” Liam mumbled with a content smile.

Zayn was suddenly very red (Niall got into another fit of giggles at that) and couldn’t get out a proper sentence, eventually settling for a weak ”Okay.”

Not waiting for anyone else to say something, Louis turned around and stumbled out of the stuffy pub. He relished in the fresh air outside for a moment, only forgetting what he was going to do for a couple of seconds, before starting his journey where he assumed the Cursed Odyssey was.

He only tripped three times by the time he saw the ship come into view, which was fair as he was drunk and it was dark and the streets were uneven and... what was he talking about again?

When he got closer to where Harry was—which was a weird thing to think and why did that matter anyway?—his gaze fell on a discarded newspaper on the ground. It was the language on it that grabbed Louis’ attention: it was English. An English newspaper in the middle of Madagascar. What an odd and funny coincidence. Yes.

There were many moments that Louis wished he could go back to and redo, like this one. He wished he had never picked up that newspaper and read the title, because it broke his heart and made him very nauseous and made him want to throw up, so he did but it didn’t make him feel better about anything.

**English Prince Dead By Suicide.**

Louis wasn’t dead, he hadn’t killed himself, his father was a liar because it had to have been his father who had told people that.

The next thing Louis could remember was that he was in front of Harry’s cabin, but instead of knocking he simply burst inside, the newspaper still in hand.

Harry was standing by the table in the middle of the room, looking up in surprise and anger at whoever had dared to burst inside without knocking, his expression immediately changing when he saw Louis.

”Louis, what are...” he said, trailing off when he didn’t really know what question what fitting. 

Louis didn’t react to the captain, instead marching— _stumbling_ —over to him and throwing the newspaper on the table, but he missed and it fell on the floor so he had to pick it up and throw it on the table again—and when the fuck did he start crying?

”See, I told you m’father would do it,” Louis slurred out, pointing to the newspaper, although he was probably just pointing into the direction of it which made him look dumb so he instead prodded Harry’s chest with the same finger. “He’s a liar and he’s mean and a liar.”

He was pretty sure his sentences weren’t coherent and grammatically correct and probably sounded childish but he just didn’t really care anymore. He was dead, technically, so what did it matter anymore, right?

”Louis,” Harry said but didn’t follow it up with anything, which probably meant that it was meant as a soothing comment but that just made it all the worse for Louis. 

"'s'just nothing anymore," Louis said, stumbling on his feet and slapping Harry's hand away that tried to steady him. "I'm nothin' anymore. 's'all nothin'."

"What--Louis, you're not making any sense," Harry said, ignoring Louis' slapping and grabbed his shoulders, even though the latter was struggling against him.

"I'm perfect sense," he said, his slur getting heavier and heavier and his sentences jumbled and nonsensical. "I... I am... a prince and I'm dead and..." He waved his hand around vaguely, not finishing his sentence as though his hand had finished it for him.

"I think it's best if you lay down," Harry said, starting to sound agitated by Louis' behaviour and trying to lead him to the bed.

"No," Louis said, trying to push himself out of Harry's grip. "No, no," he repeated, shaking his head with closed eyes which didn't make sense but nothing made sense anymore because he couldn't think and the room was spinning and he felt so hot and wanted to sleep and run at the same time and he pushed himself away more violently and then he pushed too hard and suddenly he was falling in slow motion but also so quickly.

The next thing he knew was that he was on the floor, that his shoulder hurt and that one of the chairs around the table was now also on the floor. Now that he thought about it, the table wasn't really standing straight anymore either. Did he do that? And how did he end up on the floor again?

Louis didn't move, too tired and too uncaring, but he didn't need to move, because all of a sudden he was being carried. Harry was carrying him towards the bed, scoffing and shaking his head.

"You need to start learning how to drink," he said, not getting an answer from Louis who was just far too out of it. Harry carefully laid him down on the bed, but when he tried to stand up straight, Louis gripped him tightly and promptly pulled the captain on top of him.

"Lou--" Harry tried to say, getting cut off by the sudden impact. Louis wrapped his arms tightly around Harry's torso, pressing his face in his long, curly hair and breathing in deeply, somehow calming down by it.

"No," he mumbled, yet again make zero sense. "Stay." That made sense, he was pretty sure.

Harry seemed to agree, because he sighed and relaxed in Louis' arms, rolling onto his side and letting Louis cuddle him close.

Whatever Louis was doing right now would create for an awkward morning, but even though Harry was so deeply aware of that he couldn't get himself to push Louis off, and instead of doing that he tangled his legs with Louis' and held him closer.

Because when did he ever do anything that made sense?


	10. Sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the sweet comments!! It really helps me with writing :)

It was still night when Louis woke up. He was laying on his back, Harry beside him with his arm slung over Louis’ waist, his face pressed against Louis’ shoulder.

It didn’t take long for the events of that same night to rush back to Louis, who remembered the newspaper first. Then the fighting with Harry—was it even a fight? It was followed by remembering Niall’s upcoming heat. 

Louis carefully grabbed Harry’s arm, lifting it far enough to slip out of the bed before gently placing it down again. He still felt a bit wobbly, the alcohol not fully out of his system yet. Feeling around, Louis managed to get to the table without walking into anything. The newspaper was still there, the title still the same.

He couldn’t believe it. His father had actually given up on him. Was he that unimportant to his father, for him to just pretend like Louis dead, when he so clearly knew that Louis was still alive, maybe even fighting for his life? All in all, it made Louis feel pretty worthless, to know that he was cared for that little by his own blood. It reminded him of his mother and sisters, making him wonder whether they knew the truth about his wellbeing. His sisters probably thought he was dead, but his mother... Louis couldn't be sure. He felt bad for his family. His sisters adored him, he knew that no matter how selfish it sounded. The news must have been heavy for them--no, not the news, the lie. It was a lie. He wasn't dead.

Although, maybe, in a way, he was. His identity was surely dead. Harry had often explained to him that in no way was he allowed to introduce himself with his actual last name. It was either just Louis and a completely random last name if absolutely necessary.

Louis Tomlinson had already been dead, his father just made it official. 

When exactly he started crying, Louis wasn't sure. It was somewhere in between reading the newspaper's headline and sinking onto his knees and leaning his back against one of the chairs. What he did know, is that he cried for a long time. He sat there for what felt like hours but could’ve been mere minutes. It didn’t really matter anyway.

After a while, there was some shuffling on the bed. Louis didn’t cease his crying.

”Louis?” a sleepy, hoarse voice whispered. Louis just sobbed harder. There was a sigh, some ruffling of the sheets, and then footsteps that got closer and closer with each passing second.

Then Harry crouched in front of Louis, before just dropping onto his knees fully. ”What’s wrong?” he asked, his tone of voice gentle and warm. He was still talking quietly. 

Louis didn’t answer.

”Louis, you’ve got to tell me what’s wrong, I can’t help you if you don’t,” Harry said, reaching out and placing his hand on Louis’ arm. Louis just shook his head, almost child-like.

”Look at me, love,” Harry said, and Louis finally did as he said, lifting his head and meeting Harry’s gaze that was filled with concern. ”Talk to me.”

”My father,” Louis croaked out. ”He just... he cares so little.”

Harry sighed softly, not in annoyance but sympathy. ”I know, ” he said. ”What he did is unspeakable. It’s dishonourable and cowardly.”

But that wasn’t it. This was the man that raised Louis, that taught him the things he knew today, but had now gotten rid of him with more ease than he had getting him into the world. 

”I’m... I’ve got nothing left, ” Louis whispered. ”My family thinks I’m dead. They were all I had.”

”No, that’s not true,” Harry said, pulling Louis closer, his hand on the back of his neck. ”You have Niall. Zayn. Liam, even.” he hesitated for a moment. ”You have me.”

And Louis sobbed again, pressing his face in the crook of Harry’s neck, who wrapped his arms around Louis in an almost instinctive response. ”I’m not fuckin’ worth anything,” Louis said through his sobs.

”You’re worth more than all my men combined,” Harry said. ”And did you forget? You’re worth 18.000 gold coins.” It was a joke, a weak attempt, and it didn’t make Louis laugh.

It just made it worse, because it reminded him that he was so actually so unimportant that he was sold into the Omega slavery. He was still a sex slave. Harry still owned him. It was his only identity now.

”Louis, you’re not what you're father makes you out to be, ” Harry said, kissing the top of Louis’ head. ”Yes, you’re may be a prince and an Omega, but you’re also a pirate and never allow your title to define you. You’re kind, caring and selfless. Sweet and sarcastic and amazing. You’re everything a person could want.”

A beat of silence.

”Everything I could want.” 

Louis had stopped sobbing, now tears escaping on their own without Louis needing to blink. But that didn’t matter.

Harry’s words mattered.

Louis slowly moved his head, his nose grazing against Harry’s neck as he looked up. He didn’t move back the more he sat up, nosing against Harry’s cheek before he was looking into the captain’s eyes and their lips were just barely brushing against each other. Their breathing had sped up a little, now heavier and quicker. For a couple of seconds, they simply looked at each other.

Then Louis nudged his head forward simultaneously with Harry, his eyes closing, his heart hammering in his chest, and they were kissing. It was sweet and slow and comforting, three or four strokes of their lips together. Harry's lips were soft, his hand behind Louis’ neck never moving, the other resting on his lower back.

Their breathing was even quicker when they pulled apart again, Louis never opening his eyes, leaning his forehead against Harry’s.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room was their heavy breathing. Louis' heart was rabbiting in his chest, and he was almost convinced Harry could hear it.

Harry pecked his lips again, only for a second, but enough to make Louis whine softly, his Omega responding to Harry’s Alpha.

”You need rest,” Harry then said, breaking the spell but instantly repairing it when he picked Louis up and carried him to the bed, the second time in the same night. This time, Louis didn’t have to ask him to stay as Harry laid down beside him.

They stared at each other for a little while, Harry’s fingers brushing over Louis' cheekbones and temples. He was being uncharacteristically gentle with Louis, who couldn't say he was complaining. They felt like they were the only ones in the world, safe and serene. 

”Sleep,” Harry gently said after a while, and Louis complied, closing his eyes and turning onto his side, knowing that Harry would wrap an arm around him once he did.

Harry did exactly so, pressing his chest against Louis’ back and pressing a gentle kiss on the back of his neck. 

Louis moved his hand on top of Harry’s, grabbing it.

They fell asleep not much later.

༻♛༺

Harry wasn't there anymore when Louis woke up again that morning. Louis felt strangely disoriented when he didn't find the captain beside him, but didn't dwell on that feeling for too long when he remembered the kiss from last night. His face heated up at the memory, and most significantly the innocence of it. There had been nothing sexual about it, just complete innocence and filled with trust and so, so sweet. It became apparent to Louis that that, right there, was what complete trust and vulnerability felt like.

It felt good. 

Sitting up in the bed, Louis suddenly felt a tremendous headache and a strong desire to throw up. He ignored both, getting to his feet and finding his shoes that he didn't remember taking off. He didn't leave the captain's quarters immediately, grabbing the newspaper and reading the headline one last time instead. Then he went outside, climbed the quarterdeck and then the stern deck, before tossing the paper into the sea. He watched as the water soaked it up before it got too heavy and started to sink.

Only after the paper had completely disappeared did Louis look up, only to see that the ship was docked at Île Sainte-Marie again. They would return to Madagascar again that night.

It had to be sometime in the morning, the sun still bleak and only halfway up in the sky. Louis released a sigh of content, feeling relatively... free, in a way. Now that the world thought he was dead, there was nothing he should fear anymore. Of course, there was also the smallest chance of him getting recognised. It was small and unlikely, but nevertheless, possible. His previous identity was gone. All he was now, was a pirate and a sex-slave--which was only per contract. In reality, he was only a cabin's boy and Harry's property, all because of a piece of paper.

Louis left the ship again, looking for Harry's cabin as he remembered he still had to talk to the captain about Niall's heat. The cabin was close to the docks so that Harry could keep an eye on his beloved ship that Louis meant more to the captain than anything else in the world. Now that he thought about it, it was probably the only thing he had.

He pounded on the door the moment he got to the cabin, realising right after that the next few minutes were going to be awkward. Harry opened the door a couple of seconds later, wearing an annoyed expression that disappeared when he saw Louis. Louis realised that every time he interrupted Harry's alone time, the captain looked annoyed. He seemed to be more of a loner and didn't like to be bothered by people unless he specifically requested them.

"Louis," he greeted, stepping aside to let Louis in. "How are you feeling?"

Louis scoffed as he and Harry took place in the middle of the room. "My head feels like it's about to implode if I'm honest," he admitted, causing Harry to grin.

"Well, at least you don't remember any of it, right?" he said, something flashing in his eyes that Louis could only classify as disappointment. Before he could tell Harry that he actually remembered everything, the captain already continued. "What are you doin' here? Shouldn't you be explorin' a bit?"

Louis sighed, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "I wanted to ask you whether we could lengthen our docking?" he asked, causing Harry to narrow his eyes. It was apparent that he didn't like it when somebody attempted to change his plans. That only made Louis more excited about doing exactly so.

"Why'd I do that?" Harry asked.

"It's Niall," Louis explained, uncrossing his arms again to not look opposed to Harry in any sort of way, only to increase his chances of getting him to agree. "He's about to go into his heat. We can't let him go through it on the ship, not with all these Alpha's around."

Harry looked in thought for a few moments, before nodding slowly. For a moment, Louis thought he agreed to his proposal. "And why can't I just leave him behind here?" Harry said, proving Louis wrong. "It's not like I need him. He's the cook's second, completely unimportant."

Louis felt anger flare up inside of him at the captain's words. "Alright," he said. "You leave him, you leave me. I'm as unimportant as him."

Harry looked slightly panicked at that, but it was gone quickly. "You write my letters and do the inventory, all the shit that the rest of my crew is too dumb for."

"Your crew?" Louis asked with a cocked eyebrow. "You mean the same crew that Niall's a part of?"

It was tense for a few moments before Harry visibly deflated. "Okay," he said. "We'll stay for as long as the Irish needs."

Louis gave him a small smile, feeling triumphant at getting Harry to back down and agree with his proposal. It established a new type of power for Louis, especially a new type of power over the captain. "Thank you, captain," he said, intentionally using the title. Harry only smiled weakly. "Now, I suppose I'll explore the island a bit."

There it was again, the disappointment in Harry's eyes. 

And then Louis put two and two together and without hesitating, he stood on his toes and pressed his lips to Harry's. Harry froze in surprise, but Louis didn't back down. And then, ever so slowly, Harry's lips moved against Louis', and it was even better than the first time.

Harry's hand came to rest on Louis' cheek as they kissed slowly and almost sickeningly gently, his thumb brushing over his cheekbone. Louis grabbed the captain's elbow for support, neither tempted to speed up or deepen the kiss, wanting to keep it innocent and meaningful. 

Then Louis pulled back, standing to his full length. "I do remember, funnily enough," he whispered, smiling bashfully. 

Harry scoffed, shaking his head. Then he put his hands on Louis' cheeks and pulled him forward, crashing their lips together in their third and most passionate kiss so far. Louis let out a small whine in surprise but kissed back immediately. His hands landed on Harry's upper arms, gripping them tightly as Harry pulled Louis flush against himself. The kiss was intense and hot and fiery and so, so perfect. A warmth spread through Louis' body, his brain lit on fire and his heart was drumming in his chest. The taste of Harry's lips and his scent was tantalising Louis' senses, his head an absolute, throbbing mess.

Suddenly, Harry turned Louis around and pushed him against the wall, Louis letting out a gasp at the impact but never breaking the kiss. Harry swiped his tongue against the seam of Louis' mouth so that he opened it up and allowed Harry's tongue inside. Their tongues slid together as they kissed which urged Louis to wrap his arms around Harry's neck and pull him close enough to feel his rapid heartbeat. 

The kiss almost came to a desperate point, the two of them desperate for their bodies to be closer, their kiss to mean more, to be one instead of two separate people. 

Harry managed to push one leg between Louis', causing Louis to instinctively ride up against it, letting out a tiny moan. Louis tangled his hand in Harry’s hair, pulling it just enough to make Harry bite Louis’ lip before capturing his lips in another deep, heated kiss. He pushed his leg up again, making Louis let out another moan at the friction. He was getting wet quickly, his scent heavy in the air and mingling with Harry's. 

It was getting heated and intimate very quickly, but Louis didn't mind and wanted so, so much more. It seemed Harry wanted more too.

And then, suddenly, Harry pulled back and took a couple of steps away from Louis. He put his hands in front of his face, breathing heavily. "Jesus," he heaved. "The fuck are you doing to me?"

Louis was panting, feeling dazed and turned on and at a complete loss for words. There was an obvious bulge in Harry's pants, copied in Louis own.

"Fuck, okay, fuck," Harry muttered, looking up again and meeting Louis' eyes. "Can you... are you okay to, like, stay here? On your own?"

A frown appeared on Louis' face, who didn't understand what Harry was saying.

"You can't go out smelling like that, so," Harry said, meaning that whatever was about to happen wasn't going to happen anymore. It broke Louis' heart. He didn't care. He just didn't want Louis to get raped because of the scent that _he_ had created in the first place. "I--shit, alright, just stay here until you're good, yeah? I'll be... I don't know."

And then he rushed out of the cabin, leaving a dazed Louis behind, who was still panting and wet and hard, all because of Harry. He was completely turned on by his captain, who had left him just like that so that Louis could 'calm down' and leave, and probably pretend like it had never happened.

Had Harry not wanted the same thing? Did he regret it? Or was he just that revolted by the idea of having sex with Louis? Or was he just revolted at the thought of having sex with another man?

What the hell was Louis going to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The kiss felt like an actual 'finally' moment to me... anyone else?  
> And no, they're not in love. Just because you kiss, doesn't mean you're in love. They're falling for each other, not hopelessly in love and completely infatuated. Remember that Louis started out resenting Harry, Harry feeling similarly.  
> Love takes time. In order to fall in love, you need to be friends first.  
> You can't have a good romance without a good friendship first.


	11. Intimacy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a reminder that pirates don't wear underwear, which is an important thing for this chapter, believe it or not.
> 
>  
> 
> Important terminology:  
> \- Strumpet: prostitute.
> 
>    
> Also, smut warning.

Louis hated Harry.

At least, that was what he was trying to convince himself of. In doing so, Louis figured out that hating Harry was an incredibly difficult thing to manage, considering he started to have some serious feelings for the captain. 

The thing, however, was that Harry was completely avoiding Louis. He was ignoring him whenever they were in the same room, which was the exact situation Harry tried to avoid as much as possible, all the time. It was driving Louis completely insane. The same questions kept repeating themselves over and over again inside his head, wondering what he did to make Harry hate him so much--hadn't Harry wanted the same thing? Hadn't he kissed back because he felt the same way? Or was he just using him for his own sexual impulses?

Louis felt completely miserable. The fact that he was an Omega and Harry an Alpha didn't help either. Louis was practically physically longing for him, for his touch and his smell. He was an utter mess, and it was Niall who got to enjoy it. His heat had only lasted three days, thankfully a quick one, and the ship would continue its course in two days. 

"I don't know what I did, Niall," Louis muttered into his cup of ale, his face glum just like his mood. He and Niall were sitting in the pub they had visited a couple of days ago, at a table in a secluded corner. "One moment he was kissing me like we were going to die tomorrow, and the next he's treating me like I'm an annoying crew member that's just trying to get under his skin."

Niall gave him a sympathetic smile. "I know, mate," he said, patting Louis' arm. "It's a fucked up thing for him to do."

"Thank you," Louis said, pleased that Niall was agreeing instead of trying to talk sense into Louis. "He's just such a... a..."

"Cunt?" Niall offered, as was his duty as Louis' friend.

"Yes!" Louis said, leaning back in his chair. "See? You get it."

"Believe me, I do not," Niall said, shaking his head and scoffing. "Whatever thing you're goin' through with Styles is none of my business and I don't understand the half of it, but I'm your mate so I'm goin' to help you, no matter what it is."

And that was why Niall was Louis' favourite. He was a genuine, good friend. Something a person like Louis should only be supposed to dream of, but now he had one, and he was not going to let Niall go any time soon.

"Thank you," Louis said. "Seriously."

"Sure," Niall said with a smile. "How about we head back to the ship, yeah? I want to get some sleep."

"Yeah, sure," Louis said, standing up. He took out a couple of coins and left them on the table as their payment. Harry had given it to him a couple of days ago--or rather left it for him on his desk with a badly written note that was littered with spelling mistakes. 

Louis and Niall walked back to the ship at a slow pace and in comfortable silence. Louis liked that about Niall: he could talk for hours on end, but knew when to be silent around Louis. All in all, Niall was just a great friend and an even greater person. 

When the two of them got back to the Cursed Odyssey, Louis' eyes involuntarily fell on the door to the captain's quarters. This was something he did every morning and every evening, as though he could see Harry through the door. 

Right as he was about to walk the plank to board the ship, the door to the cabin opened and a woman stepped out. Louis froze in place as he saw Harry follow, his heart sinking when the captain kissed the woman goodbye. When he looked closer he saw that the woman wasn't actually Harry's lover like Louis had originally thought, but that she was a whore. "Well, then," Louis muttered, his heart practically breaking.

"What?" Niall asked, following Louis' line of vision and noticing Harry now too. "Oh. Shit. A strumpet?"

"Yeah," Louis said weakly, turning his head away before he could accidentally make eye-contact with Harry and took a beeline towards the sleeping quarters. 

"Louis!" Niall called out, following him to the quarters with a worried expression. "Are you alright?"

Louis laid down in his hammock, staring up at the ceiling dramatically. He felt completely worthless and used. He knew Harry wasn't a good person by default but he had genuinely thought that the captain had cared for him in some degree--that Harry had some sort of dignity. It seemed like he hadn't, and that Louis was just some sort of toy instead of a person to him.

"No."

 ༻♛༺

The next morning, Louis was on the open deck with Zayn and Niall, eating their breakfast that existed out of potatoes, vegetables and bread, something they hadn't eaten in a long time. Bread didn't last long, so it was never kept on the ship. Louis had to admit he had missed it, which was an odd thing to miss. He supposed that it wasn't an odd thing to crave when you were a pirate.

"I've got to come clean about somethin'," Zayn suddenly said, interrupting Louis and Niall's bickering about the correct way to pronounce  _dipaina,_ the Malagasy word for bread.

"What?" Louis asked in curiosity because he liked meddling with other people's business. That was simply who he was.

"Well, uh. Something might've happened with Liam," Zayn admitted, looking down at his lap and refusing to meet Niall's and Louis' eyes. The two of them met each other's gaze with raised eyebrows and impressed looks before focusing on Zayn again.

"So you shagged him?" Niall asked promptly, never one for holding back. Louis expected  Zayn to start stuttering and blush heavily, quick to say that they hadn't done that yet and had only kissed.

But, instead, Zayn slowly looked up with pink cheeks and guilty eyes, causing Louis to choke on his food and making Niall let out an impressed laugh. "Fucking hell, mate," he said.

Louis quickly took a sip of his water (another something he barely had any more) to wash down the food. "So are you two a thing, then?" He asked with a strained voice, coughing a couple of times. "Or is just the shagging him a thing?"

Zayn smiled dreamily. "Both, I guess."

Niall sighed, shaking his head. "Looks like everybody here is getting some action except for me."

"What'd'you mean?" Zayn asked, frowning and tilting his head to the side.

"Well, you and Liam for one," Niall said. "And then there's Louis and the--"

"Thank you, Niall," Louis quickly interrupted, not feeling up for discussing him and Harry, whatever that exactly was. 

"Wait, wait," Zayn said, shaking his head and holding up a hand. "Just. 'The'--? 'The' what? The captain?"

Niall simply smirked, whereas Louis looked intently at his plate that, unfortunately, was already empty. Otherwise, he could've stuffed his mouth and avoid answering. "It's not important," he opted on saying. "A one-time thing. It wasn't even that, it was just... nothing. That's what it was. Nothing."

Zayn looked sympathetic, reaching out and patting Louis' shoulder. "Sorry to hear that, mate," he said. "You'll get over him, though. Just go with another Alpha for one night and rub it in his face. Take your revenge, you know."

And while Niall and Zayn continued talking about the new relationship between Zayn and Liam, Louis let his mind stick to the 'revenge' Zayn had mentioned. He let his head go in circles about possible revenge plots, like getting it on with another crew member or even going as far as running off the ship seconds before leaving so that Harry couldn't get him back. 

And then Louis knew.

 ༻♛༺

That same evening Louis was called into Harry's cabin by the name 'Tomlinson'. Harry was sitting behind his desk, holding out a piece of paper. "I need you to write up another inventory. I'm sending people out tomorrow," he said, not even bothering to look at Louis. 

"Right," Louis said, grabbing the paper but putting it down on the desk. He took out the vial from under his shirt, holding it up. "Is it alright if I put this in your desk drawer for safekeeping?"

Harry looked up, his eyes immediately going to Louis' fingers wrapped around the chain delicately, something flashing in the green that looked close to lust. "Sure," he said, not even looking at the vial.

Louis didn't reply, walking around the desk and opening the drawer under it. He pretended not to feel Harry's eyes on his body, a lustful look. It was so, so obvious and driving Louis' point only further: Harry wanted him just as much as he wanted Harry.

Louis closed the drawer again. He glanced at Harry who was now focusing on a document, and then made a quick decision. Grabbing the document out of Harry's fingers and tossing it aside, he pushed the chair back and before Harry could ask what he was doing, he climbed on the captain's lap, straddling his waist with his legs on either side, their groins aligned and his face above Harry's.

"Louis, what--" Harry said, something in the line of anger on his face that disappeared when Louis' hand purposely brushed over his clothed cock, hinting at what was to come if he would simply let Louis. 

"Did you pay for her?" Louis asked, letting his hand entangle in Harry's hair, tugging it gently and causing Harry's eyes to flutter shut for a moment (which meant he had a thing for hair tugging, something for Louis to remember). "You did, didn't you? You paid that whore after you fucked her?"

"Is that what this is?" Harry asked, his hands landing on Louis' waist. "Jealousy?"

Louis managed to scoff, which was difficult to do sounding casual while his body was flooding with arousal and want for Harry. "I do not get jealous," he hissed.

He then leaned in to kiss Harry but pulled back at the last second, which made Harry move forward and reveal that he wanted to kiss Louis back. Louis smirked, biting Harry's lower lip and pulling it playfully. He allowed their lips close, but never close enough to actually touch, teasing relentlessly.

He suddenly ground his hips down, creating friction in exactly the right place for the two of them. Harry's breath hitched in his throat at the sudden motion, his grip tightening on Louis' waist. Louis exhaled a heavy breath at the pleasure shooting through him, already half-hard. Louis could feel Harry's bulge growing amazingly fast, relishing in the fact that he was the one getting Harry so excited.

"Louis," Harry whispered, sounding questioningly but longingly at the same time. It only urged Louis to repeat the action, this time making Harry's breath quicken.

He tugged on Harry's hair as he ground their clothed cocks together, making Harry exhale in short, heavy breaths that Louis copied. Harry attempted to kiss him a couple of times but Louis would just pull back for their faces to stay close enough to feel each other's breath, but not close enough for Harry to succeed as he continued to grind and tug his hair.

Harry then started helping Louis out, gripping his hips tighter and pulling them down. "Fuck," Harry breathed, Louis' hips moving faster but still calculated. He couldn't forget the reason why was doing this: to make Harry realise what he was losing. 

Louis' heavy breathing turned into light moans as he got harder and was slowly starting to forget the entire purpose of his doing. Harry started bucking up in his chair, his hands still on Louis' waist and intensifying the motion. Louis was getting wet quickly, his scent filling the air and mingling with Harry's, who obviously smelled it and only increased their pace. Louis' hand moved to the back of Harry's neck, gripping it tightly to keep himself upright and not tumbling off the chair in complete mind-numbing desire.

They were moaning and panting into each other's mouths, now desperate for their own highs, chasing them with little coordination. "Fuck," Louis moaned, desperately rutting up against Harry, his pre-come leaking out and staining his pants.

Everything just felt _so_ good, and Louis wanted nothing more but to come by Harry's hands--but he wasn't going to let Harry touch him. This was for Louis, and to make Harry see what he was going to lose.

And then that familiar feeling started growing in Louis' abdomen, that fire that slowly spread through him and made the hairs on his arms stand up. His movements were now sloppy and desperate, his orgasm quickly approaching which he was just so, so desperate for. 

"Are you..?" Harry whispered, feeling Louis getting sloppy and uncoordinated, his grip on Harry's hair and neck tightening.

"Yeah," Louis breathed out, and then he felt Harry pull his shirt away and lick his gland, which brought him over the tipping point. Louis exclaimed in pleasure, his orgasm washing over him in powerful waves that got him clinging to Harry and arching his back. "Oh, my God," he moaned, letting it all wash over him and relishing in the feeling for as long as he could, before his orgasm slowly subsided.

He could tell that Harry hadn't come yet and without a moment of hesitation reached down and palmed his clothed cock one, two, three times before Harry finally released too, biting Louis' neck to mask his loud moans that made Louis whimper and realise that Harry's moans had to be the sound of Angels--but that was probably just his orgasm-haze talking. He also knew that there was definitely going to be a mark on his neck, which just made everything a little bit more intense.

Harry panted heavily into the crook of Louis' neck. Louis collected himself as well as he could, still wet and wanting Harry but also knowing that he needed to leave as cold-blooded as he could. He pulled Harry's head up gently, Harry meeting his eyes with hooded lids. Louis kissed him deeply, their tongues sliding together, but Louis forced himself to let the kiss last for only a few seconds, even though Harry tried to deepen it and let his hands wander over Louis' body. 

Making himself pull back, Louis rested his forehead against Harry's. "And you don't even have to pay me for this," he whispered, somehow managing to not sound like he was about to melt against Harry as he tugged his hair again. "Think about being able to have this next time you're paying a whore for a cheap fuck."

And then he forced himself off Harry's lap and onto his feet, only stumbling a little bit as he stood straight. He grabbed the vial from the drawer again, putting it around his neck as he started leaving the cabin. He didn't look back at Harry.

"Have a good evening, captain."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally said it was going to be important I fucking told you.
> 
> Also, is it obvious that this was my first time writing smut?
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not look down on prostitutes at all. But, this job is hardly being tolerated in modern times, so imagine what it was like four hundred years ago when sex was seen as something for married women (men always got a free pass?).


	12. Continuation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put so much research into this chapter, oh my God. I'm some sort of expert on pirates by now.
> 
> Important terminology:  
> \- Hand(s): the crew of a ship; sailors.  
> \- Hold: Interior lower compartments of the vessel where cargo is stored.

Louis had cleaned himself up quickly and quietly after leaving Harry's cabin, tossing his old pants overboard after finding new ones. He had stayed on the deck for some time, letting the air clean his scent. The rest of the crew was down in the mess, eating their dinner. They would bring the new inventory on the ship tomorrow, so tonight was the last night for the crew to enjoy a proper meal. After a couple of weeks, they would be back to eating rancid food. The ship would be filled with cheese, milk, meat, eggs, vegetables and a couple of chickens and a cow for a little while, but after the first items would be completely consumed, the animals would be added to the menu. The meat, of course, only stayed good for a week or so. After that, it was up to the spices and salts to mask the rancid taste.

Louis wasn't looking forward to the food, to say the least.

He went down to the mess just in time to get some food, ignoring the looks Niall gave him. Apparently, he hadn't gotten rid of his scent fully. There was also a bitemark just above his collarbone, so.

Later that night, he couldn't really fall asleep, as the worry for the consequences of what he had done started settling in. What he had done was incredibly stupid, yet he couldn't get himself to regret it. The fact that he was an Omega and had just used Harry, an Alpha, was enough ground for Harry to seriously punish him. It was terrifying, to be honest. Harry had a lot of power over Louis because of his gender alone, and then add to the fact that he was the captain and Louis was his _property_ , Louis was in a severe predicament. He was too young to die, right?

As though that fact had ever stopped anyone from dying, but still.

After deciding there was no way Louis could fall asleep, he went out on the open deck. Ed wasn't on the deck, which was fair as they were docked and there was no reason for him to be at the helm. Louis climbed up to the crow's nest, the highest point of the ship used for looking out for other ships. Louis was pretty sure it had the be the most boring job to have on the ship. Because it was so boring, the crew often shared the job with each other, passing it on. 

Louis had never done it before, but that was probably because he was allowed by Harry who needed him as his cabin boy—although that job probably wasn't his for long anymore. 

He sat in the crow's nest for hours, eventually watching the sunrise and feeling oddly at peace. It gave him a good opportunity to think everything over, everything being the last couple of days. 

The conclusion he came to was that he was most definitely willing to have a relationship with Harry that went beyond friendship, although he wasn't going to make it that easy for Harry. He wanted to make Harry work for it, really show him what Louis was worth.

"Louis!" a voice eventually interrupted the silence. Louis glanced over the edge of the crow's nest, looking down at the deck to find Niall with one hand on his hip, using the other to shield his eyes from the sun. "What're you doin' up there, mate?"

"Nothing," Louis called back.

Niall barked out a laugh. "Come down, yeah? We could use some help with bringing the cargo on board!"

Louis didn't want to help, but it was probably the best thing to do in order to avoid Harry and keep his mind busy. He climbed down to the deck again, joining Niall who was waiting for him and following him to the docks.

There, they found barrels and wooden boxes filled with provisions, weapons and gunpowder, animals and clothes. Louis quickly chose one of the barrels to roll onto the ship, which was easier than carrying one of the boxes. Physically, he wasn't very strong, and he knew for a fact that he was going to have enough trouble with getting a barrel on the ship in the first place, let alone one of the heavy boxes to carry.

He regretted his decision to help the moment he started pushing the barrel. It dawned on him how physically weak he actually was when he saw how the others had much less trouble with bringing the cargo on board. The barrels were _heavy_ , and before he even got to the plank his arms were already burning with fatigue.

Liam chuckled when he passed Louis, carrying one of the boxes with a lot of ease, his muscles bulging under his shirt. "Havin' trouble?" he teased, Louis flipping him the finger and pushing the barrel up the plank, which was even more difficult as the plank tilted and that gravity was now working against Louis and the barrel.

By the time Louis had gotten to the deck, he was already too tired to help. "Bloody hell," he panted out, shaking his head to himself.

"Heavy, innit?" Niall commented, standing next to him. "I have to carry those things once every day, you know."

"How'd'you do it?" Louis asked.

Niall grinned, shrugging a little. "I don't, mostly. Just bat me Omega eyes and get one of them Alphas to do it for me."

Louis crinkled his nose in disdain. "Savoury," he commented, but Niall just nudged his shoulder.

"What's it to you, aye? You're already gettin' it on with the captain."

"We're not 'getting it on'," Louis said, using air quotations. Whenever he repeated Niall's words or really focused on their conversation, he noticed how incredibly different their ways of talking were: Louis was much more sophisticated and posh with his words, whereas Niall just spoke quickly and unrefined. 

"You're doin' somethin' with 'im," Niall said, nudging Louis again. It was obvious he was fishing for answers. "Come on, mate, tell me."

Louis sighed, shaking his head. "I just showed him that a whore is not even close to what he can have with me, that's all," he said. He glanced at Niall, who raised his eyebrows, looking unimpressed. "And I made him come almost completely untouched, so."

Niall laughed, sounding surprised. "Atta boy!" He said, slapping Louis' shoulder. "But, shit, that's impressive, mate. Like, he's an Alpha an' all, so you must have one hell of an effect on him then, aye?"

Louis grinned, finally feeling a little proud of himself and realising that, yes, he did have an effect on Harry like no one else on the ship. "Aye," he said, before cracking his knuckles and feeling a lot more confident with himself. "Let's do another one."

He gave up after the third barrel.

 ༻♛༺

Louis hung over the balustrade, watching as Madagascar became smaller and smaller with each passing minute. The wind was in their favour today, making their departure from Madagascar swift and easy. The crew had put the last of the cargo in the ship's hold and had gone out to the pub for the last time in a long time. Now, the next day, they were continuing their course to France. 

Louis had yet to talk to Harry. Harry was holed up in his cabin and hadn't come out since...  _it_ happened. 

It was all a bit of a mess.

The worst part, however, was that Louis was seriously longing for the captain. He was completely gone for Harry, both in romantic and sexual trends. It was almost embarrassingly strong, his desire and longing for Harry.

Why didn't Harry feel the same?

After leaving the island, Louis had watched it from the ship until the moment it was only a small dot on the horizon. There wasn't a single job for him to do. Louis had done the inventory yesterday and there wasn't anything else for him to do until Harry said so.

Zayn suddenly appeared beside Louis, leaning his back against the balustrade and crossing his arms over his chest. "You're not seriously missing Madagascar, are you?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Louis shrugged. "I liked it there," he said. "The people were nice. A proper place for a home, y'know?"

Zayn nodded casually. "So," he said, his tone of voice different from the nonchalant tone it had been before. "What did you and the captain do?"

It was a sudden change in topic, making Louis look up in surprise at Zayn. "Excuse me?"

"Don't give me that," Zayn said, looking a little agitated. "I've been having a shit day so far and I really can't have you lying. So, what the hell happened?"

He was being straight-forward and frankly, completely rude, but it seemed like he had a good reason. His shoulders were tense and there were bags under his eyes which made Louis make a mental note to ask about his frustrations later. 

"Okay," Louis said, straightening up but still looking out over the sea. "Harry and I kissed. And I may or may not have made him come almost entirely untouched. Didn't even have to take his clothes off."

Zayn chuckled, shaking his head and looking a bit brighter than he did before. "That's impressive," he said. "You and the captain a thing now?"

Louis shook his head, feeling a bit cocky. "No, not really. I'm making him work for it, you know?"

"Work for it?" Zayn said, looking unimpressed. "What are you on about?"

"Harry thinks he can have me with the snap of his finger. He kissed me, but then went with a whore and I decided to work my magic and show him that if he ever does something like that again, I won't be his for the taking anymore."

"Right. So you're making him sexually frustrated for you because you're too entitled to admit you want him?"

Louis stood straight, smiling proudly. "Precisely."

Zayn scoffed, shaking his head and pushing Louis' shoulder playfully. "Styles is losing it, if that makes you feel better," he said, making Louis grin and return the favour by nudging Zayn.

"That might just make my day."

༻♛༺

Two days later, nothing else had changed between Harry and Louis. The only difference was that Harry wasn't hiding anymore and was back to being a proper captain. Louis made use of this fully: bending over to 'pick something up', cling onto Alphas and make a bunch of sly, sexual comments that made Harry choke on his breath and constantly look irritated.

After these two days, Louis was called into Harry's cabin by a sixteen-year-old boy by the name of Maeva who had joined their crew in Madagascar.

Deciding to not be difficult for once, Louis did as he was asked to do and visited Harry in his cabin. He was hoping Harry had called for him to discuss their... _relationship_. "You called for me?" He asked, not daring to walk over to Harry but choosing to stay close to the door in case of... well, anything, really. 

Harry hummed, motioning him over with two fingers. Louis suppressed an irritated sigh and crossed the room to the desk—so much for playing it safe. "How much do you know about Cornelius Barends?" Harry asked, looking up and folding his hands in front of him, leaning his forearms on the desk.

Louis needed a moment to think, not expecting the question he was just asked. "Nothing."

"As I expected," Harry said, taking in a deep breath and averting his eyes again. "Nevermind, then. You can leave."

Eyebrows shooting up, Louis needed to regroup for a moment. "I beg your pardon?" he asked, offended.

"I said you could go."

"Yeah, I'm not deaf, dickhead."

Harry's head snapped up, his eyes narrowed at Louis' insult dangerously. "Watch it," he warned, his voice low and threatening. "I'm still your captain."

Louis narrowed his eyes too, leaning his hands on the desk and bringing his face closer. "Bit of a soft captain, I reckon."

"Watch. It," Harry said with a clenched jaw, slowly getting up from his seat. Louis started feeling a bit intimidated but refused to back down, even though his Omega wanted nothing more but to do the opposite. "I am your captain, you are my hand, and you _will_ listen to me when I tell you to."

After a tense moment, Louis scoffed, taking his hands off the desk again and standing straight. "Don't treat like I lack a brain. I know why I'm here," he said, smirking the littlest. "You can't stay away from me."

"Cute," Harry said, shaking his head as though Louis was a child.

"Yeah, I am," Louis replied easily, turning around and starting to make his way out of the room. "Get fucked, honestly."

"Louis—”

But Louis didn't listen and walked out of the cabin again, both content with what he had said to Harry and seething at the way Harry was treating him. Before he was fully out the door, however, Harry grabbed his wrist from behind, pulled him back inside, shut the door and slammed Louis against it. Louis gasped and tensed in surprise, expecting anything but that. 

"I don't know what the fuck you're thinking," Harry hissed, pinning Louis' wrist above his head against the door, his other hand beside Louis' head. "But you do not get to address me that way, understood?"

"Or what?" Louis said, trying to sound unbothered but sounding the complete opposite. His voice was almost wavering. Almost.

Harry scoffed coldly. "Whatever comes to mind," he said. "Keelhauling, maybe." He looked Louis up and down, his eyes stopping on Louis' lips. "Could make use of the contract."

It was the way Harry looked at him and the way he used his words that made Louis want him so badly. He knew he had a choice at that moment: either give in or make Harry work for it even more.

Of course, he chose the first.

Louis reached down with his free hand and promptly grabbed Harry's crotch, making Harry breathe in sharply. "Don't think you need that contract for that," Louis said, his voice a bit rougher with desire. "Just like you don't need a whore for it."

Harry looked conflicted for a moment, before shaking his head and stepping back. "I can't he said. "You know that I respect you too much for that."

Which.

"Respect?" Louis asked, astonished. 

"Yes," Harry said, leaning against the table and looking at the floor, not meeting Loui's eyes. "I know that in your eyes I might be a brute, but I am still a man of honour. I won't use you like that."

Louis had to be in love. Or, well, half-way. He couldn't really explain what he was feeling other than deep affection. And he just really, really wanted to be with Harry right now. "Kiss me," he said, causing Harry's head to snap up in surprise. "Just... kiss me, dickhead. We're making this way too complicated for ourselves."

Harry chuckled. "Finally, something we can agree on," he said, more to himself than to Louis, before he  _finally_ crossed the room. He cupped Louis' cheek, looking into his eyes for some sort of objection in them, but he didn't find anything because Louis _wanted_ this, dammit. Louis' eyes fluttered closed when Harry started leaning in, and then Harry's lips captured his in a messy and passionate kiss that seemed to have been so long awaited.

Perfect was a word Louis had never used before in his life, but he was pretty sure that he could use it for this moment. His brain flooded with both adrenaline and relaxation at the same time, his arms winding themselves around Harry's neck which pulled their bodies flush against each other. Louis' heart was rabbiting in his chest and his stomach filled with butterflies, his entire body tingling. 

Pulling back slowly, Harry leaned his forehead against Louis', looking into his eyes deeply. "I want you," he said softly. "Not just this. I want _you_."

And somehow, Louis knew Harry was telling the truth. "Good thing I want you too, then," he replied, and then kissed him again, desperate to feel their lips against each other.

After minutes of relentless snogging, Harry mumbled a "Jump," against Louis' lips, Louis listening immediately and jumping up, his legs wrapping around Harry's waist. Harry put his hands under his thighs and started walking towards the bed, not even stumbling a little under Louis weight, and Louis... well.

He felt the happiest he had in a long time.


	13. Euphoria.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Serious smut in this chapter. If you're uncomfortable with reading this, just scroll till you see this symbol: ༻♛༺. It's clean after that. Also: protection! is! important! No glove, no love! Love is cleaner with a packaged wiener! Don't make a mistake, cover your snake! Wrap your bate before you mate!
> 
> Important terminology:  
> \- Barrelman: man who sits in the crow’s nest.  
> \- Starboard: right side of a ship when facing forward.  
> \- League: A unit of distance equal to three miles.

Harry carefully laid Louis down on the bed, kissing him deeply and passionately. His tongue slowly found its way into Louis' mouth, exploring it, mapping it. He seemed as if he cared about Louis throughout the whole kiss. His hands were gentle but firm, holding him there. Saying,  _I'm not letting go anytime soon_.

Louis tangled his hands in Harry's hair, deciding that it was the best place to put them. Harry's hands found the buttons of Louis' loose cotton long sleeve, undoing them slowly, one by one. Louis had never been particularly confident in his body, except for his face, and the idea of Harry looking at his body scared him. He felt convinced that if Harry thought he was absolutely revolting they wouldn't be in this situation. He feared he would disappoint Harry if he'd show him his body.

His fear, however, disappeared almost entirely when Harry finished the last button on his shirt and proceeded to begin to kiss and nip his way down Louis' front. Louis' whole body felt as though it was on fire, his pants beginning to tighten at the crotch. He managed to refrain from moaning Harry's name out loud, until Harry reached his stomach and said, almost to himself, "Fucking beautiful."

He kissed back up Louis' torso, sucking a bruise on Louis' neck, the pressure of his mouth deliciously tugging at the delicate skin there. Louis found himself out of breath from the way Harry was sucking on his neck, now lowering to his collarbone. He pushed off Harry's coat, and Harry leaned up long enough to discard of it somewhere on the floor only to quickly reattach his lips to Louis' skin.

"You're not really—“ Louis commented, pausing to let out a tiny gasp when Harry lightly bit his collarbone, "—really careful with your clothing."

"Other things to worry about," Harry mumbled, causing Louis to shiver when he heard his lustful tone of voice. Louis just barely remembered his necklace with his vial, taking it off with trembling hands just as Harry started taking off his own shirt.

Once Louis' shirt was off in a corner of the room somewhere along with Harry's, Harry seemed to get bored of Louis' collarbones, which were now littered in with bruises in varying shades of red and purple. Louis loved the idea of being marked as Harry's for everyone to see. He nearly prayed to God that the bruises would stay until the next morning, but then figured that that was probably a sin and that God wouldn't really take well to Louis' prayer. 

But how was he supposed to care when Harry's hand was trailing down his body and getting closer to his crotch with each passing second?

Harry kissed Louis again, slowly and deeply while his hand pulled down Louis' pants. Louis lifted his hips a bit to help Harry out, accidentally brushing his cock against Harry's stomach and whimpering into Harry's mouth due to the feeling. 

Somewhere along the line Louis' pants and Harry's shirt ended on the floor. Harry's hands travelled over Louis' body, running over his skin and making Louis feel like he was on fire. He felt boiling hot, his skin burning with every touch. 

They were breathing heavily in between kisses, into each other's mouths, into each other's space. The air between them was thick and heavy with want, and asking, and need. It only doubled when Harry wrapped his hand around Louis' cock and slowly started pumping up and down. Louis arched his hips up into the touch, his mouth falling open in a silent moan. 

"Easy," Harry whispered, using his other hand to push Louis' hips down again. Louis could only let out a small whimper of pleasure, producing slick quickly and gradually, his scent making the air even thicker. He could feel everything, from the heat of Harry's hand, combined with the cold of his rings moving up and down him to Harry's hot breath on his face.

Louis wasn't really sure when exactly, but at one point he felt Harry's middle finger lightly pressing against his hole, most likely to ask Louis if he could, but Louis was so wet with slick that Harry's finger slipped in without any resistance. Louis moaned, tugging on Harry's hair with one hand and gripping his shoulder blade with the other. He could feel Harry inside him, moving his finger in and out and drawing out light moans and pants from Louis. Louis enjoyed the feeling, not just because of the pleasure it gave him, but because he felt close to Harry. It was like they were sharing a pulse, and a heartbeat, and a thought.

"Another," Louis moaned out, and Harry obliged quickly, adding his index finger. He fastened his pace a little, scissoring Louis open and drawing out more moans. 

Louis was a mess, moaning and panting and writhing under Harry, who held him in place with a single hand on his hip. His slick dripped onto the bed, staining it wet. He was starting to get a little impatient, needing to feel Harry inside of him and wanting to feel all of the Alpha, desperate for him.

"Please," Louis whimpered, opening his eyes to meet Harry's. "Need you. Please."

Harry kissed him deeply. "Not yet, love," he mumbled against his lips, inserting a third finger and making Louis let out a strangled gasp. 

Maybe he should've mentioned to the captain that he was a virgin. It was probably the reason why he was responding so intensely to Harry's touch, much more intensely than he would after he had gone through this a few more times. At least, that was his own theory: he could be entirely wrong and could have this response the next time and every other time after that—assuming that there was going to be a next time.

When Harry licked one of Louis' nipples Louis became pretty positive that there was most definitely going to be a next time.

After minutes of just using his fingers, Louis got his sense of thought back and reached down to touch Harry—only to find that there were pants in the way. 

"Why in the  _fuck_ are you still wearing these?" Louis said, making Harry chuckle and move back far enough for his fingers to slip out. He pulled off his pants, allowing Louis to drool over the sight of him. Harry was  _big_ , which made sense because all Alphas were, but that didn't stop Louis from feeling impressed.

He nearly made grabby hands but decided against it at the last moment, and instead grabbed the sheets under him as Harry leaned over him. He kissed Louis again, but this time it was gentle, almost careful as though Louis could break if he kissed him too roughly. He grabbed Louis' legs as they kissed, holding them up so that they instinctively wrapped around his waist.

Then he lined himself up with Louis hole and Louis practically held his breath in anticipation, almost ready to beg. When Harry finally did sink into Louis, long and thick, stretching Louis in all the right places, Louis audibly sighed. Not from pain or discomfort or surprise, but from contention. Harry didn't move for a moment. "This okay?" he asked Louis, simply because he was kind and sweet and caring.

"Good, great, fucking phenomenal," Louis rambled incoherently, and Harry kissed his neck with a small smirk. Then he started moving, and Louis whined in pleasure. 

Harry thrust into him slowly, and the drag inside of Louis feels... beautiful, makes him feel full and tight around Harry, so much of Harry, in his arms and around him and in him, and that's beautiful too. Louis bunched the sheets in his fists, feeling like he could scream and sing and cry all at the same time, the sheets too rough for him as Harry thrust in and out of him and deciding to grab Harry's shoulder blades instead. 

Harry thrust into him slowly and deeply, hitting that one spot inside Louis over and over and over until he was on the brink of screaming, his fingers digging into Harry's back. Then Harry wrapped a hand around Louis' cock and Louis just  _let go_ , letting himself scream in pleasure and bliss and want. Sometimes his cries were caught in Harry's mouth and other times they escaped into the air around them.

This went on for too long and too short all at the same time, but then Harry fastened his pace until he started to get more erratic, and Louis knew he was close to coming. He was too. 

And then he suddenly slowed down and pulled out, making Louis whimper and try to get him to enter him again. "I can't, baby," Harry hoarsely whispered, his voice lustful. "You know I can't."

And oh, my God. He was talking about knocking Louis up, which could totally happen at some point in time and that drove Louis wild. He wanted Harry to come inside of him. It wasn't even that he wanted to get pregnant, because it was clearly not an ideal development right now, but he just wanted to give Harry  _everything_.

He didn't have a lot of time to think about it, however, because Harry brought their cocks together to jerk the two of them off together, fast and urgent, chasing the high of coming.

When they both did come it was within seconds of each other and awfully quiet on Louis' part: he could only snap his head back and clutch onto Harry who moaned as he came, burying his face in the crook of Louis' neck. The novelty of sex had worn off and instead, satisfaction had settled in. 

After a couple of moments, Harry climbed off Louis and reached for a rag to clean the both of them off. Then he laid down beside Louis, pulling the blankets over them and tucking Louis in. He looked at him for a couple of moments.

"This okay?" he asked, and Louis cocked an eyebrow.

"Is that a serious question?" he asked, his voice rough, likely due to all the noise he was making only minutes ago. 

Harry chuckled, shaking his head, and then surprised Louis by kissing him tenderly. It was only a few strokes of their lips together, but it was sweet and meaningful. And Louis felt happy.

Harry cuddled up to Louis, holding him close to his naked chest, and Louis practically felt himself melt against the captain, whose fingers stroked his back up and down.

"My little Prince."

༻♛༺

When Louis woke up the next morning he felt sore, although he couldn't complain when there was a Harry who had his arm wrapped around Louis' torso and his face against Louis' shoulder. Their legs were entangled under the blanket, as Louis had checked when he had discreetly lifted the blanket.

He was endeared by Harry's soft snoring and his messy, tangled hair. He was starting to have some serious feelings for the captain, which was scary, but he also knew that he had all the time in the world to figure it out. And he had a feeling that Harry would be there right beside him.

Harry's hand was displayed clear enough for Louis to see his rings. He always wore a lot, but he altered between them. Well, except for one: his [silver rose](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/47/f0/31/47f0311abe38e81f75f38a7ea2262adb.jpg). Louis admired that particular ring, the craftsmanship was incredible and it was clearly very valuable (not just in value, but to Harry personally as well). He never took that ring off, never, and it made Louis curious beyond compare. He had never asked, though, because he knew that Harry would tell him eventually once he was ready. Louis wasn't an idiot. He knew Harry was holding back, just like Louis was. There was a lot about Harry's past that Louis didn't know about: his family, the reason why he turned to piracy, how he became so feared when he really was just a kind and sympathetic man. They probably had a lot in common on the family front, but that was just an imprecise conclusion on Louis' part.

He didn't notice that Harry was awake and watching Louis staring at his hand. "Not very subtle, love," Harry said, startling Louis who snapped his head to the captain.

"Why would I want to be subtle?" he asked as Harry rolled onto his back and sat up, leaning against the bed's headboard. Louis shamelessly watched his muscles flex under his skin, only a little disappointed by the sudden absence of his body heat.

"I don't know, you tell me," Harry said, cocking his eyebrow at Louis and making him want to touch Harry, so he did. By swinging his legs over Harry's waist.

The blanket prevented their cocks from touching, though Louis had difficulty determining whether that was a good thing or not. He nuzzled his nose against Harry's, who leaned his head into the touch and tried to kiss Louis. Louis pulled back just enough for Harry to miss but close enough for their noses to touch. 

Harry tried again and Louis let him this time, capturing their lips in a delicate and intimate kiss. Louis tangled his hands in Harry's hair, Harry's hands sliding up and down Louis' naked back, leaving behind a trail of hot and sensuous and erotic. Their tongues lazily slid together, nothing leading out of it, although that didn't make it less passionate. 

They eventually pulled apart again, Louis licking his lips and untangling one hand out of Harry's hair. They looked at each other for a few seconds. "You should be out there, be a captain," Louis said, running his hand up and down Harry's bicep. "Make everyone look up to you."

Harry smiled a little, which was starting to become Louis' favourite expression on the captain. He preferred the rare smile over the usual smirk. "Enjoying this a bit more," he softly said, leaning forward and kissing Louis collarbone.

He attempted to create another lovebite, but Louis pushed him back before he could. "I think I've got plenty of those, Haz," he said, although he couldn’t help the smile fighting its way onto his lips. 

Harry's eyebrows shot up, a brilliant smile overtaking his features. "Haz?" he replied quietly, making Louis blush a light pink. 

"Is that okay?" he asked, although judging by Harry's smile, he seemed to be just fine with the new nickname. 

"Yeah, yeah, as long as you don't call me that around the crew, alright?"

Although Louis didn't like it, he understood it. Favouritism probably wouldn't be taken well amongst Harry's hands, but something told him that if they would go slow with revealing whatever it was that they were now, the crew could get used to it eventually. 

"I think your nickname is equally bad," Louis said, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

Harry chuckled, shrugging a little as he continued stroking Louis' back. "I never said it was bad, love," he said. "Or, little Prince."

Louis snorted, leaning forward and pressing a kiss on Harry's lips, and another, and another, until Harry sighed and grabbed the back of Louis' head and crushed their lips together. Louis smiled into the kiss, unable to help himself and pretty much ruining it. 

Harry just pulled back, giving Louis a look. "Really?" he said. Louis just shrugged, pecking his lips again. "Come on, like you said, I need to be a captain. Get off me, yeah?"

By showing a pout, Louis let Harry know that he didn't agree with his plans, but he did as his captain said and got off Harry's lap. He crossed his legs, sitting up in the middle of the bed, the blanket pooling into his lap and covering all the necessary parts as he watched Harry get up, checking him out shamelessly. Pride flowed through him when he saw Harry’s scratched up back. It was all his work, the red lines leading from his shoulder blades to halfway down his back.

"Great view," he boldly commented. Harry sent him a look, grabbing his pants off the floor and pulling them on pointedly. "What a shame."

Harry put on his leather boots and then grabbed his shirt off the floor. Louis noticed him flinch a little, and reach behind him to feel his back. Louis knew that Harry now knew about the scratches, but judging by the captain’s amused smirk, he seemed more than okay with it.

Just as he started on closing the first button of his shirt, there were a few firm knocks on the door.

"Who's there?" Harry asked, pausing with his buttons.

"Maeva, Captain," a voice with a heavy accent replied from the other side of the door. It was the boy who had joined in Madagascar. Harry turned to look at Louis with a smirk, and Louis knew instantly what the captain was about to do.

"Haz, no," he said, but Harry didn't listen and instead turned back to the door as he continued with his buttons.

"Come in," he called out, and the door opened slowly after a couple of seconds. The dark skinned boy behind it stepped inside but froze at the sight in front of him. His eyes widened when he saw a naked, half-covered up Louis in Harry's bed, his captain getting dressed right in front of him. Then Louis realised that the room had to smell. In fact, now that he focused on it, the room reeked of sex. 

It wasn't hard to see that Maeva smelled it. Harry didn't seem fazed, the twat, knowing exactly what was happening and relishing in the situation and the consequences that were most definitely going to follow.

So much for easing the crew into the new relationship.

"What is it, boy?" Harry asked, his cold, captain exterior back up.

Maeva stuttered for a moment. "I... uh..." He straightened his back again, clearly trying to look less fazed. It wasn't _really_ working. "Barrelman spotted a ship, Captain. On starboard."

Harry didn't look fazed at the news, whereas Louis was getting more than a little nervous at the news. Ships meant enemies—enemies meant battles. "How far off?" Harry asked.

"About half a league, Captain."

After a small sigh, Harry waved his hand. “I’ll be outside in a few. Get Payne and Malik to be ready.”

Maeva nodded. “Yes, Captain.” He practically ran out of the room, closing the door a little too hard.

Louis chuckled, moving to get out of bed. “Poor lad. We probably traumatised him for life.”

It was now Harry’s turn to watch Louis get dressed. He removed his rings as he spoke. “He’s young, he needs to learn eventually,” he said. “He’s got sex out of the way, but now he’s going to learn about battle.”

Louis froze in his place, pants on, shirt in hand. “Battle?” He weakly asked. He felt ashamed with the fear that filled him, especially when he saw how calm Harry looked. 

“Most likely,” Harry said, putting on his coat and walking over to Louis, grabbing his face with both hands. “Listen to me.”

”O-Okay,” Louis said, unable to look away from Harry’s fierce eyes, his gaze intense.

”I need you to stay safe no matter what, you got that?” Harry asked, and even though his choice of words wasn’t very delicate, his voice was laced with concern. “I won’t lose you.”

Louis swallowed thickly. “I promise you won’t. But you better not die either.”

”I won’t.”

And Louis believed him.

Harry leaned forward, kissing Louis deeply. It was bittersweet, and Louis' heart clenched. “You’re my Omega, I won’t let anyone hurt you or touch you,” Harry said once he pulled back.

Louis just kissed him again, not knowing what else to do or say. He was feeling a little emotional, to put it lightly.

They pulled apart for the last time, and Harry pressed something in Louis’ hand. He then grabbed his [tricorn](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/2b/9b/9c/2b9b9ceb00e884a9cf82834392197c69.jpg) from his desk and with a last look at Louis, he disappeared out the door onto the deck.

When Louis opened his hand, he found a silver rose ring. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have such a thing for Harry's hands and I don't know why but _oh my god_.
> 
> And I may or may not have realised that pirate captains wear tricorns and may or may not have added it only now into the story whoops.


	14. Battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter is a little bad. My grandpapa passed away a couple of days ago, so my concentration has been all over the place.
> 
> Important terminology:  
> \- Master gunner: experts in the technical aspects of gunnery.  
> \- Powder monkey: A young boy on sailing ships who would distribute gun powder to batteries of cannon during a battle

Louis had finished getting dressed quickly, grabbing a dagger and putting it under his belt just in case. He had nearly put the vial around his neck again but had ultimately decided against it when he realised that it could break during the battle. He had put Harry’s ring around his finger. It was slightly too big, but that didn’t really matter: there was no way he was going to allow himself to lose it.

Rushing out of the cabin, Louis spotted Harry at the front of the ship. He was looking through his handheld telescope, studying the other ship that was still far away, but approaching quickly. Louis walked over to Harry, knowing that he had a duty as the captain's cabin boy—there was no doubt he had that particular job back.

"What are we lookin' at, Captain?" Zayn asked just as Louis got into hearing range.

Harry didn't immediately answer, lowering his telescope slowly. "Guineamen," he quietly said, lost in thought. 

Louis furrowed his brows, not recognising the term. Liam seemed to notice, leaning a bit closer. "Slaver ship," he explained in a low tone. Louis sent him a thankful, tightlipped smile.

"What's that mean for us?" Zayn asked. "If we're going to attack I need to know right now to get the cannons ready."

It appeared that Zayn was the master gunner on the Cursed Odyssey. Louis realised that Zayn had to be smart in order to have so many responsibilities on the ship: not only was he a navigator, he was a master gunner, having to order the powder monkeys and hands around to prepare them for firing the cannons.

And all Louis was, was a simple cabin boy who wrote letters.

Harry suddenly sighed deeply, pulling Louis' attention back to him. "We're attacking," he said. "Prepare the cannons."

"No," Louis interrupted, surprising not just everyone, but himself too. Nobody was allowed to go against the captain, no matter their rank on the ship. Then again, Louis Tomlinson was always meant for greatness.

"Excuse me?" Harry said, clearly shocked by the fact that someone had just directly defied his order. 

Louis forced himself to stand straight, forced himself not to falter under the alpha's stare. "There are innocent people on that ship," he said, licking his dry lips. "Those people were forced on that ship. They didn't have a choice. You can't kill them, they've done nothing wrong."

Harry narrowed his eyes. Not because of contempt, but because he was thinking. "What would you want me to do, then?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow. He was challenging Louis. "Let the ship pass, put us in a position of vulnerability for an attack? And if that doesn't happen—or God forbid, it does—those people will still be sold and forced into the life I prevented _you_ from living.”

Louis swallowed thickly. “That’s not what I want, you know that,” he mumbled, and regret flashed in Harry’s eyes. Neither acted on it, however, because they were on open deck in front of the entire crew (who were now watching their exchange go down) and because it simply wasn’t the time. “There has to be another option.”

It was quiet for a moment, everyone lost in thought. “Just kill the captain, mate,” a voice with a distinct Irish accent suddenly interrupted. Louis turned around to find Niall perched atop a barrel at the bottom of the stairs, a half-eaten apple in one of his hands. 

“What are you saying?” Harry asked, taking a single step forward, simultaneously closer to Louis, who pretended not to feel the goosebumps rising on his arms.

Niall hopped off the barrel, throwing the apple overboard as he walked closer. “If you kill the cap’n you set those folk free, yeah?” He said. “Nobody to sell ‘em. Just explain to ‘em how to steer the ship and you’re good.”

Ed chose that moment to cut in. “I can teach ‘em. Nothin’ to it, really,” he said with a small shrug, and Louis found it slightly difficult to believe that it was that easy to steer an entire vessel.

”How would we do that?” Zayn asked, frowning. “There’s an entire crew onboard, and we still need to get on the ship. We ain’t invisible, can’t just climb aboard.”

”We’re not going to climb aboard,” Harry said, his eyes a little distant. “But they are.”

And so, a couple of minutes later, the entire crew was hidden under the deck in a tense silence, waiting for the slavers to climb aboard. Louis was the furthest away from the exit—not because he wanted to, but because Harry had forced him there. He wanted to keep Louis safe no matter what, but couldn’t exactly hide him in a cupboard until the battle was over. The reason for that was because Louis had refused to do it. He had finally gotten the respect of the rest of the crew, he couldn’t afford to lose it by hiding out during battle—and once everyone knew about him and Harry, they would just blame him for using the captain as his protection and excuse for not fighting.

So they had made a compromise: Louis would be the last to come on deck, but could still join the fight. He was clutching his cutlass tight enough for his knuckles to turn white, the dagger still safely tucked under his belt. Liam was sitting beside him, also Harry’s orders.

”You ever been in a battle before?” He quietly asked Louis, who shook his head, too tense to properly answer. “Not to scare you or anythin’, but it’s brutal.”

Louis swallowed thickly. “How brutal?”

”How well can you handle severed limbs?”

Alright.

That didn’t exactly help Louis’ fear, but he didn’t have a lot of time to dwell on it, because the next thing that grabbed his attention was a bunch of yells and footsteps above them.

The slavers had boarded. They were yelling in a language Louis couldn’t understand, and his guess was Dutch.

”They’re Dutch,” Liam whispered, unknowingly confirming Louis suspicions.

” _Niemand hier, kapitein!_ ” A voice yelled. “‘ _t lijkt verlaten!_ ”

”They think it’s abandoned, captain,” a voice somewhere in the front said. Louis assumed he was Dutch, although he wasn’t sure. He had never before spoken with some of the crew, and so only knew faces and a few names, but no ethnicities. For all Louis knew, the guy could simply recognise the language, or perhaps he just happened to speak it (although that was unlikely, as Louis knew for a fact how incredibly difficult the Dutch language was).

“Attack!” Harry’s voice suddenly thundered, and his crew complied immediately, charging onto the deck with battle cries. 

Louis listened to Harry and ran out last, readying himself to attack—but the moment he got onto the deck, he was paralysed. Everywhere he looked, men were fighting men, blood was spilling and bodies were dropping. There were cries of agony and fight, gunshots and the clanging of sword on sword filling the air, demolishing the once peaceful air.

It resembled what Louis imagined Hell to be like.

Even though he was too scared to move, his eyes unconsciously searched for Harry in the chaos. He needed to know Harry was okay.

And he was, fighting multiple men at once. One hand tightly gripped his [rapier](http://brethrencoast.com/weapon/rapier.jpg) that he used to fight two men at the same time, the other hand holding his [flintlock pistol](http://ids.si.edu/ids/deliveryService?id=NMAH-ET2010-31203-000003) that he fired at men charging at him.

Louis couldn’t look at him for long, because there was suddenly a battle cry beside him. He snapped his head to the sound to find an enemy charging at him. The man was older than Louis, and so probably more experienced in the technique of fighting. Louis snapped out of his dazed state just in time to bring his cutlass up horizontally and block the other man’s blow.

He had to think quickly and decided to use his quick wits instead of his physical strength—which he barely had any of, he realised quickly. Using all the power in his arms, he pushed his sword up further into the air, forcing his opponent to retract his sword. He then kicked the man in his stomach, which was probably against the rules—as though there were rules in a fight to the death—and the man staggered back in surprise, clutching his stomach. Louis kicked him again, and this time the man stepped back too far, hitting the balustrade behind him and toppling over the edge of the ship with a cry. 

Okay, so Louis officially just won his first battle. Maybe a bit unorthodox, but Louis still felt proud of himself. He knew for a fact he was going to feel regret for his actions later as this was only his second kill, but he didn’t have time to think about it because another man was already coming towards him.

This time, Louis was more prepared and confident in himself. After a couple of blocks and blows, Louis unceremoniously stepped on the man’s toes, earning himself a yelp of pain and surprise. He used his momentum to blindly swing his cutlass and ended up cutting the man’s throat. Louis watched with wide eyes and a frozen stance as the man grabbed his own throat, blood spurting out and his throat filling up with the same substance.

The man looked at Louis with wide eyes, begging for Louis to end his misery. Louis knew he should stab the man through the heart, to make his death swift and painless, but he was frozen in place, only able to watch as the man choked on his own blood, dropped onto his knees and then his chest. He stopped choking after a few seconds, his body still.

Louis stood frozen, his body rigid with fear and disgust at his own actions. He had to remind himself that he had no choice, that the man would’ve killed him if Louis hadn’t done the same to him instead. It was difficult, however—he didn’t even know the man’s name.

He suddenly felt a sharp cut on his shoulder and whipped around just in time to find an enemy swinging his cutlass at Louis. Louis was too late; he couldn’t raise his own cutlass anymore or reach for his dagger. The man shoved his cutlass forward in a final blow to end Louis’ life, but he suddenly dropped to the floor. 

There was a round wound in his chest, and Louis recognised it as a bullet wound, earning himself a flashback from the time he killed Lazare: the wound was identical. He blinked a couple of times to force images of Lazare’s death out of his mind and was then brought back to his senses when he realised that somebody had saved him.

Louis whipped around to find Harry a couple of meters behind him with his pistol raised, smoke leaving the barrel. He stalked over to Louis, his eyes filled with a fire Louis had never seen before.

”Watch yourself,” Harry said, pushing his pistol in Louis’ hand. “You promised me, remember?”

_“I won’t lose you.”—“I promise you won’t.”_

_“_ I know,” Louis weakly said.

”Keep it together, I can’t protect you,” Harry said, sounding harsh. Louis knew he didn’t mean it in a demeaning manner. He was simply caught in the heat of battle and concerned for Louis. “I will _not_ lose you,” Harry said, pointing a finger at Louis. “I’ve only just gotten you.”

This brought up a surge of energy in Louis, even when the captain walked away and promptly stabbed a man in the back, saving a member of his crew in the process. 

“You can do this. Nothin’ to it,” Louis said to himself, intentionally repeating Ed’s words from earlier.

And then he was the one to approach the enemy, instead of waiting for somebody to come to him. After three more fights, one in which Louis got a cut on his cheekbone and another where Zayn helped him out a little, Louis was completely exhausted. Most of the battle was now over, and he couldn’t be any more thankful for it.

But his relief quickly disappeared when he saw a man sneak into the captain’s quarters. Louis had no clue who the man was, clearly an enemy, but he didn’t understand why the man would hide in the enemy’s cabin. The only reason Louis could come up with was that the man was looking for something, but the man was a slave trader, the only thing he should be concerned about was keeping his cargo alive—and that’s when it clicked for Louis.

”Oh, my God,” he mumbled, immediately forgetting all about the battle and rushing towards the cabin. He kicked open the door to find the man by Harry’s desk.

His head snapped up, and he immediately reached for his pistol. Louis was quicker, however, and pointed his own pistol— _Harry’s_ pistol—at the man.

“Don’t,” he warned. The man froze, slowly holding up his hands. Louis nudged his pistol to the right, telling the man to walk away from the desk. He did as Louis said, treading slowly as Louis closed the door behind him with a single kick. 

“That’s far enough,” Louis said once the man got a little too close to him. “You’re—You’re Barends, aren’t you?”

The man nodded slowly. “Aye,” he said. “You heard about me?”

”Captain Styles mentioned you once,” Louis replied, making sure that he stayed alert. He needed to keep the captain in front of him busy until Harry realised Louis was gone and would come looking for him. He knew Harry was intelligent and would be quick figure out where Louis was.

”I feel honoured,” Barends replied, taking a careful step forward but freezing when Louis pulled back the hammer and fully cocked the pistol.

”Don’t move,” he said through clenched teeth. After a few seconds, he relaxed his jaw a little in order to let himself talk. “I don’t get why the captain would talk about you if you were just a simple slave trader.”

Barends swallowed nervously, and Louis knew he was onto something.

”He only talks about the men that affect his business one way or another,” he continued, slowly walking over to one of the chairs by the table and sitting down in it. He made sure to look as collected as possible when he did it so that Barends would think he was doing it because Louis felt confident enough for it, and not because he felt like his knees were about to give in at any second. “He doesn’t interest himself in slaves, I would know.” Louis leaned forward a little. “I used to be one.”

If Barends wanted to say something, he didn’t and kept quiet, obviously aware that a single wrong move or word could mean the end of his life.

”You’re not a slave trader, in fact, I bet my fuckin’ life you’re not even captain of that ship,” Louis said, propping his feet up on the table and crossing one ankle over the other. “Am I wrong?”

Barends shook his head.

Louis huffed in fake amusement. If he was honest, he was terrified, but he needed to keep up his fake persona, not only for his own sake but for Harry’s too. “Why are you with those men?”

”Needed transportation,” Barends said, his voice steady. It showed how used he was to situations like these, how used he was to being held at gunpoint. “I had to find the Cursed Odyssey. There was word that it was spotted in Madagascar. The ship I’m on would follow the same course you were following, only the other way around.”

”You meant to cross us,” Louis said, and even though it was more to himself than to Barends, the man still nodded. “You wanted this. You knew there would be a fight, and you were going to use the chaos to get whatever you needed.”

Barends didn’t nod this time.

”What were you looking for?” Louis asked, narrowing his eyes.

”Money, just like everyone else,” Barends said. Louis didn’t exactly know what came over him, but he suddenly raised his pistol at the ceiling and fired it, the gunshot echoing through the room like a thunderclap.

Barends flinched, but Louis didn’t even blink at the gunshot, pointing the pistol at the captain again. “I didn’t ask for a fucking lie, mate. Let’s try again.”

”Okay! Okay,” Barends quickly said. His hands were now trembling. “ _God, sta me bij_. I was looking for a ring, that’s all.”

”What kind?” Louis asked, although he had a pretty strong hunch as to what ring Barends was referring to.

”A silver one. Made to look like a rose,” Barends said, describing the exact ring around Louis’ finger. It now felt a little heavier, but Barends hadn’t seen it yet. The hand the ring was on was in Louis’ lap. Louis cocked an eyebrow, urging the captain to explain why he wanted that particular ring. “It’s an important ring,” Barends said. “Rumour goes it’s the one thing keeping Styles alive. He should be dead three times over.”

”Really?” Louis said, keeping his tone of voice uninterested but feeling the exact opposite. “How come?”

”Took a bullet to the heart once,” Barends explained, his voice an octave higher in some sort of twisted excitement. “Got sliced open time and time again and he never died. It’s because of magic, and everyone knows it’s because of the ring.”

Louis chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. 

“What?” Barends asked, clearly confused by Louis’ sudden laughter.

Louis sobered up quickly but kept a small smirk on his face. “It ain’t the ring, mate,” he said. “It’s his blood.”

Barends shook his head. “No, that—that’s impossible, it’s got to be the ring, it’s why he’s alive right now!”

”We’re talking about this ring, yeah?” Louis said, holding up his hand that wore the ring. “It’s not magic. It’s a simple marriage.” 

Which was a lie, it was such a lie, but Barends didn’t need to know that. He would be dead within the hour, a sealed fate that not even Louis could prevent Harry from doing.

”You married him?” Barends asked, his eyes wide, he took a couple of steps forward, freezing when Louis jumped to his feet and gave him a warning look.

"I did. It's none of your concern," he quickly said. "Why do you want my husband dead so badly?"

It was odd to refer to Harry as his husband. It didn’t feel right, but not exactly wrong either.

Barends shook his head frantically. “The things he’s done...” he said. “He murdered my wife, my little girl... they never even hurt a fly! He hurt so many people, killed and plundered. I came here to take my revenge. If I destroy the ring, I kill Styles.”

Louis knew for a fact that most of what Barends was saying was completely deranged, but there were certain parts that worried him. Like the part about his past, ‘the things he’s done’ and that he murdered innocent people. 

“What do you mean, ‘the things he’s done’?” Louis asked carefully, afraid of the answer.

Barends shook his head again, staggering back. “Killed his entire village, he did. Murdered every single one of them, starting with his mother and ending with his sister,” he muttered, and Louis blood ran cold.

There was a part of him that hoped Barends was lying or simply insane, but there was also a part that believed the captain, and Louis absolutely loathed that part of himself.

”Harry would never have done such a thing,” Louis said, realising his words were futile. “You’re lying.”

”Why would a man on his deathbed lie?” Barends said, meeting Louis’ eyes again. “He set the village on fire, some say he laughed at the screams. Only his father survived.” The captain scoffed in disbelief. “Styles was fourteen. What kind of a kid is capable of that?”

Before Louis could reply, the door was thrown open and Harry ran in with a frantic look in his eyes. It was replaced with relief when he saw Louis, but that in turn was replaced by bewilderment when his eyes fell on Barends. “What?” He asked, looking at Louis again. “Explain. Now.”

”Found him searching through your belongings,” Louis said, holding up his hand wearing the rose ring. “I had what he was looking for.”

Harry’s eyes grew cold when they fell on Barends. “A respectful captain would never take from a man he didn’t bring down himself,” he said, taking the pistol from Louis and nodding towards the door. “The deck. Now.”

Barends did as Harry said, casting a last look at Louis. “Remember my words,” he said. “He will mean your end.”

Harry grabbed Barends, pushing him out of the room where he got grabbed by Liam, who pressed a pistol to his side as soon as he was out the door.

Harry turned back around to Louis almost immediately. “Did he touch you?” He asked, reaching out to Louis who instinctively took a step back.

“I’m okay,” he said, pretending like he hadn’t just backed up from Harry. He hated his own reaction to Harry, guilt seeping into his veins and joining the instictive fear that was already there.

The captain himself looked confused and slightly hurt by Louis’ actions, but covered it up quickly. “I... okay,” he said, trying to find some sort of answer in Louis’ eyes before giving up and walking out of the room.

Louis followed, at a loss for what to do otherwise. He watched as Harry shot Barends and took a ring off the captain’s fingers, now having an explanation for all the rings Harry owned and wore. It was morbid, more so than all the deaths that had occurred in the past hour.

Louis couldn’t help but think that there may be some truth to what Barends had told him.


	15. Floating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Sexual content warning.**  
>  Starts at: 'Harry smiled, leaning forward and kissing Louis’ nose'  
> Ends at '༻♛༺'
> 
> Thank you all so much for all the sweet comments. They truly touch my heart, and it just makes me the happiest person in the world when seeing them. I also can't believe the number of reads/attention this story is getting... it's absolutely mental, and I couldn't be more thankful and happier. All the love.

Louis had sat with Ed who had explained how to steer the ship to a man on the other ship. He was the only one who spoke English well enough to understand what he was being told. Louis had listened along as much as he could, interested in the way the ship worked—which was a lie, it was such a lie. It was just a good reason to avoid Harry for a little while longer. He knew he needed to assess the situation eventually, but he just couldn't really get himself to do that right after a life-threatening battle. So he sat with Ed and listened.

Afterwards, he helped the rest of the crew with the bodies. Those of the enemy were simply tossed overboard, and that was how Louis found out that dead bodies float if they’ve been dead long enough, and they always floated face down. The crewmembers that hadn't survived were wrapped in white linen and pieces of fabric found on both ships. Those floated too, and Louis wasn't sure whether he found that poetic or morbid. They had lost six crewmembers, which meant twelve gunshots: one for their birth, one for their death.

He hadn't cried, not even when he found out that one of the deceased was Maeva. Somehow, his tears just couldn't be found anymore. He supposed that that was just a consequence that came with being a pirate: emotions became muffled.

After the 'funeral', Louis visited Liam to get his wounds checked out. The cut on his shoulder only needed a bit of rinsing with alcohol and with a bit of luck, wouldn't turn into too big of a scar. The one on his cheekbone would become a scar, which Louis wasn't too happy about. 

At the moment, his gaze was on Harry who was sitting by his desk. Louis himself was sitting on the bed, exactly in the middle as though the centre of the bed provided him with safety. Safety from what, he wasn't sure.

Harry talked, Louis wrote.

"Maeva Nirina," he said, staring off into a corner and twirling his quill, his eyes distant. "Sixteen. Death by pistol. Was one of my hands for..." he hesitated, inhaling deeply. "...four days."

That was difficult. Louis swallowed thickly but wrote it down nonetheless.

"Baptiste Dubois. Twenty-eight. Death by... God, I don't know, blade? Yeah, blade. Was one of my hands for... five years. One of the longest." Harry bit his lip. "Loyal to a fault."

Louis swallowed again, writing down the words  _Loyal to a fault_ even though that wasn't a necessary thing for a death certificate. It was still important, Harry wouldn't have said it otherwise.

Then it became silent. Louis put the documents down, then the quill, and then put Harry's ring on again because it kept slipping off while he was writing and he had to take it off at one point. 

"Who's Barends?" he asked, breaking the silence and earning Harry's gaze. "I don't mean, like, _who_ is he, but I mean... who is he to you?"

Harry bit his lip, breathing in and out deeply before replying. "What did he tell you?"

"I asked you first."

"And I'm your captain and you answer to me, not the other way around," Harry said, his face stern and almost cold, but there was that stupid gleam in his eyes that gave away that he couldn't be angry with Louis, not really.

Louis tried to keep a stubborn gaze but eventually faltered under the Alpha eyes he was receiving. "He... he said that you... killed.”

Harry furrowed his brows, clearly not understanding what the problem with that sentence was (which was fucking morbid in and of its own already). Louis knew that he needed to be a bit more detailed.

”Like, you killed innocents. His daughter and his wife,” he said, hesitating with his next words. “That you killed your own family and your entire village.”

Something flared in Harry’s eyes, a type of emotion that Louis couldn’t identify. It was fierce and clearly deep-rooted, but gone before Louis could focus on it.

”Do you believe him?” Harry asked, his voice hesitant and an octave lower than usual.

Louis didn’t know what the best answer to that was, so he settled for a quiet ”I don’t know.”

”What do you mean, you don’t know?” Harry said, raising his voice in a sudden annoyance and Louis _flinched_ , damn him. He hated his response, especially when Harry’s eyes widened just the slightest. ”You’re afraid of me,” he said in disbelief.

Louis shook his head, almost at the point of frantic. ”No, God, no,” he said, but it was clear that Harry didn’t believe him. ”I just... I don’t know anything about your past. I have to go by the things I hear, taking a guess which stories are true and which ones aren’t.”

After a couple of moments, Harry sighed and rubbed his forehead. ”You don’t need to know them.”

But Louis wasn’t about to let him down so easy and got up from the bed to march over to him. He had the full intent to sit down on the captain’s lap again but decided against it at the very last moment, instead opting on leaning against the desk. From the way Harry had leaned back in his chair, it seemed like he knew exactly what Louis’ plans had been.

”I do need to know,” Louis said, looking into Harry’s green eyes. ”I’m your Omega, you said so yourself. I can’t be that if I don’t who you are. I want to know you.”

Harry looked up to him for a couple of seconds before reaching out and rubbing up and down the side of Louis’ upper leg, which was calming yet inexplicably sensual. Then his hand moved to Louis’ lower back and pulled him forward, onto his lap. Louis responded by spreading his legs enough for him to straddle Harry’s lap. It gave him some flashbacks to when he had pulled a similar stunt a couple of days ago, but he pushed it to the back of his mind as it just really wasn’t the time.

Harry didn’t speak up yet, so Louis did it for him. “I want this with you,” he whispered, stroking a hand up and down Harry’s bicep. “I want us. So much. Maybe even replace this one—“ he paused his stroking to hold up his hand that still bared Harry’s ring. “—with a proper, real one, someday in the future. Possibly.”

He paused for a moment. 

“But I need to know you for that to work.” He raised his hand to the back of Harry’s neck, playing with the small curls there. “We can do it, you know. We’d be fucking brilliant at this.”

It seemed that Harry finally gave in when he cracked a small smile, but it quickly disappeared again due to the serious nature of the conversation. “You realise that after I tell you this we can’t go back?” He softly said, his eyes flickering to the cut on Louis' cheek. “There are some things about me that scare men away. I don’t want that to happen to you.”

Louis smiled at the genuine concern that laced Harry’s voice. “Do you remember the first time we met?” He asked, using the hand that wasn’t in Harry’s curls to trace small figures on his lower arm. “Did I seem scared of you then?”

”A bit,” Harry replied, grinning mischievously. Louis pinched his arm.

”Not my point,” he said. “I’m trying to say that I’m not scared of you and that I won’t be, not now, not ever.”

Harry seemed relieved. “You’re incredible,” he murmured, slipping his hand under Louis’ shirt to rest on the skin of his lower back. The other hand brushed some hair from Louis' forehead, his fingers trailing over his uninjured cheek afterwards. “But I don’t want to talk about this tonight. I don’t have the mental strength for it right now.”

”That's okay,” Louis said, ignoring the tinge of disappointment. He had actually been looking forward to getting to know about Harry’s past, but it wasn't something for him to be disappointed about: he had now spoken up about his need of knowing Harry better, and he now knew that Harry was going to open to him when he was ready to. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Harry smiled, leaning forward and kissing Louis’ nose. “Can I fuck you now?” He whispered, his voice suddenly low and lustful, and _wow_ , _okay_.

Louis shivered at the incredible sudden change of mood and nodded eagerly. “Yes, please,” he said and pretty much sagged against the Alpha— _his_ Alpha—when their lips attached.

There was something so profound about kissing Harry, Louis just couldn’t place it. Maybe it was because of how deep and intense his kiss was, always thorough and like he was telling Louis that he wasn’t pulling away anytime soon. Maybe it was because it was always so loving and passionate, or because of his hands that roamed at the exactly the right times to the exact right places. Louis just felt so loved when Harry kissed him, so wanted. It was beautiful in ways that Louis didn’t even know the word beautiful could be used for.

The kiss was different from the one they had before, yesterday night. It had been passionate and fervent, but this one was slow and intimate, open-mouthed and hot in a way had Louis' body tingling all over. He pushed Harry's tricorn off his head, the hat falling on the floor with a dull thud. 

Louis leaned back far enough to take off his shirt. He did so slowly, taking his time when he felt Harry's eyes drag up and down his body. Once he dropped his shirt on the floor, Harry leaned forward and attached his lips to Louis' neck, adding to the love bites that were already there on his collarbones, neck and even his shoulders. Louis' breathing quickened, his hand going to the back of Harry's neck to steady himself.

As Harry's mouth pretty much abused Louis' neck, he shrugged off his coat and let it hang over the back of the chair. His hand rested on Louis' naked skin, rubbing up and down. One hand went too far up his arm and accidentally grazed over the cut on Louis' exposed shoulder, causing Louis to hiss and Harry to pull back abruptly at the pained sound.

"Who hurt you?" he asked, his eyes turning a different kind of dark than the one that had Louis leaking slick at the moment.

"Doesn't matter, he's dead now, I killed him," Louis answered, pulling Harry forward and kissing him again. Harry made a sound against his mouth, kissing him back for a couple of seconds before pulling back yet again.

"I don't want you getting hurt, ever," he said, and Louis rolled his eyes, choosing to attach his lips to Harry's neck and unbuttoning his shirt at the same time. "Do you hear me? Never."

"Never ever," Louis mumbled against Harry's skin, bored with the conversation now that the shirt he had been busying himself with was completely unbuttoned. Harry was going to say something again, but Louis quickly interrupted him before he could. "Are you going to keep acting like a possessive Alpha or are you going to fuck me senseless?"

The correct dark look returned to Harry's eyes, his pupils expanding as he looked Louis up and down. "Very demanding, little Prince," he said, and Louis all but whined at the nickname.

Harry kissed him again, deeply and heatedly. One of his hands started travelling down Louis' back, reaching the curve of his bum and hesitating for a moment before disappearing past the waistline of Louis' pants.

Louis' breath hitched when Harry slipped his middle finger into his hole, slowly moving in and out. Harry kissed Louis, but Louis was unable to kiss back with the way Harry was working him. 

It didn't take long for Harry's index finger to join, his movements speeding up and making Louis pant against Harry's lips. "There you go," Harry whispered, running his other hand through Louis' hair which caused Louis to lean his head back. Harry used that opportunity to kiss his neck again. "So good for me, Louis."

Louis whined at the sweet words. "Oh, my God," he moaned out when Harry added a third finger. "Please, need you."

"Easy, easy," Harry said attempting to look into Louis' hooded eyes, but Louis was a little too out of it to help with his attempt. "Want to make you come first.”

As though his intent wasn’t clear enough yet, Harry leaned his head down and lightly dragged his tongue over one of Louis’ nipples. “Fuck,” Louis said, a fire building at the pit of his stomach.

Harry seemed to sense him coming close when he brought the hand behind Louis’ neck to Louis’ front, slipping it past the waistline and wrapping it around Louis’ cock.

He only had to move it a few times before Louis was spilling into his hand, moaning and squirming in Harry’s arms.

Louis wasn’t granted a lot of time to calm down. Harry slipped his fingers out and pushed Lohis’ pants down, lifting Louis up to make it easier on himself before pushing off his own pants far enough to expose his own cock.

Louis took matters into own hands and leaned up on his knees far enough to line himself up with Harry. “Slow,” the captain ordered, and who was Louis to defy him?

He lowered himself slowly, his mouth opening in a silent moan when Harry entered him. How he managed to go as slow as he was going, Louis didn’t know, but he eventually bottomed out and needed a moment to regroup.

”Holy hell,” he breathed out, and how Harry managed to chuckle in this state was beyond him. He suddenly thrust his hips out, and Louis let out a choked off sound at the sudden movement.

He got the hint and started moving up and down, starting out slow but speeding up soon enough. 

After a little while, Harry started meeting him with his own thrusts, slamming his hips up. He shuffled back just far enough to lean against the backrest of the chair, which resulted in a slight change of angle and suddenly Louis was getting hit in a spot that had him crying out in pleasure.

Harry seemed to realise the same thing and doubled his efforts, urging Louis to all but weep in complete ecstasy. “Harry,” was the only thing that seemed to make sense to say at that moment—he was also the only person that made sense at that moment, the only thing that mattered.

It didn’t take long before they were both close to an orgasm, and Harry had to pull out, albeit reluctantly. He brought their cocks together and jerked them off simultaneously.

Louis closed his eyes, awaiting his second high. “Look at me,” Harry suddenly ordered, and Louis immediately did as he said, opening his eyes and looking into Harry’s eyes, even though his own vision was blurry and he wasn’t really sure if he was looking into Harry’s eyes. 

Louis' moans were loud, increasing in sweetness and intensity. Lust flooded his body, reducing him to a red-faced, heavily-moaning mess.

After a few jerks they were both spilling out, Louis second orgasm more intense than the first, his voice upping by nearly two octaves as pure pleasure pierced through him. Harry was a lot quieter, his hold involuntarily tightening as he leaned his forehead against Louis'. He then collapsed against the seat but not before wrapping his arms around Louis, who in turn put his arms around Harry’s neck and let himself rest against Harry's chest.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, trying to catch their breath as they got down from their highs. Harry's hand stroked up and down Louis' back, goosebumps erupting on Louis' skin from the touch. 

And somehow, in its entirety, it felt bittersweet.

༻♛༺

Harry's fingers trailed over Louis' arm, up, down, up, down. Shoulder, down to his elbow, to his wrist and the palm of his hand, then back up the same way to start over.

They were lying on Harry's bed, Louis watching Harry's hand and Harry watching Louis. They had been lying together for a while now. It was dark outside, already past eight pm, which meant that most of the crew was now on open deck (at least, those who were interested in continuing to drink, which was most of the crew). The laughter and chatter got through the thin walls of the cabin, too muffled to make anything out of it. The sound got Louis to think that the crew probably heard him and Harry when they were having sex, but then again, he couldn't really get himself to care.

Harry's other hand suddenly touched Louis uninjured cheek, which caused Louis to look at the captain. "You know," he quietly said, his fingers trailing over Louis' cheekbone, his temple and then through his hair. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Louis' head was on Harry' chest, right over his heart, so when Louis smiled at his words, he could feel Harry's heartbeat quicken. "How am I supposed to reply to that?" he asked in an equally quiet tone, the smile on his lips unfaltering.

"You don't have to reply," Harry said. "I'm more than happy with just looking at you."

And because Louis' didn't know how to reply to that either, he leaned up on one arm and pressed his lips to Harry's. He kept it light and delicate, even when Harry tried to deepen it. When Harry tried to slip his tongue into Louis' mouth, Louis pulled back just far enough to disconnect their lips, but close enough to keep their noses touching. 

"You always do that," Harry said, the hand in Louis' hair travelling down to his spine. "Do you like teasing me that much?"

Louis grinned. "Almost as much as I like you."

"And is that a lot?" Harry asked, his eyes flickering to Louis' lips when Louis answered.

"The most," he whispered, and Harry kissed him again. This time, Louis let him take full control.

Harry pulled him over his lap so that Louis was straddling him, his hands travelling to his bum and pulling it forward, creating friction and making Louis gasp into his mouth. He expected Harry to do it again, but it seemed like the only reason that he had done it in the first place was to establish some kind of dominance, like he was trying to say that he could do that and nobody else could—that Louis was _his_ , and his only.

Nothing lead out of the kiss. It was just a kiss, slow and lazy tongue-on-tongue action with travelling hands and small, soft gasps on Louis' part. 

That was the first time Louis felt the word love.


	16. Alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **The smallest sexual warning.**  
>  It's like, five sentences or something.  
> Starts at: '༻♛༺'  
> Ends at: 'He collapsed beside Harry...'

**Two months later.**

The blade of the cutlass pricked the skin on his neck, cold and unforgiving, so sharp that Louis didn't even dare to swallow under Zayn's narrowed eyes piercing his own, afraid that the blade would cut him if he pushed his throat out too far. There was a tense silence, Louis’ chest heaving in fatigue. 

Then Zayn stepped back with a satisfied grin, releasing his grip on Louis and pulling the cutlass away from his throat. "Lost again,” he said, making Louis huff and look down. "What does that make the score, Niall?"

"Uh, thirty-four to three," Niall answered from where he was perched on top of a barrel. "You suck at his, Louis."

"Fuck off,” Louis muttered, scratching at the scar on his cheek. It was now a pale white line, following the edge of his cheekbone and stopping just a coin length from his nose. It was one of the many scars he now possessed, each earned in battles with other ships. There was one he got from Liam when they were training, which he was doing with Zayn right now, and Liam had gotten a little too enthusiastic, accidentally creating a cut in Louis' upper leg. It had scared him so much that he had refused to train with Louis again, and Louis had no choice but to go to Zayn, who was the very best on the ship (Harry always called him second best).

In the last two months, Louis had lost almost all characteristics of the prince he used to be. He no longer walked with his chin in the air, didn't bother to keep a posture when he was sitting down and no longer watched his words when he spoke. He was a pirate through and through, the only thing that separated him from the rest of crew was the blood that tied him to his royal family.

His hands were no longer soft, but rough and strong like the rest of his muscles from the many battles he had gone through. He was no longer just a cabin boy, but he was now a quartermaster, in charge of seeing that the Captain’s orders were carried out and handling the day-to-day management of the ship. He was closest to Harry, but not just in authority.

The crew had accepted what was between him and Harry without so much as a hitch of breath. Louis didn't know what he would've done if the crew hadn't accepted the fact that he was in bed with the captain.

But that was just it. They weren't _just_ in bed together; Louis loved him. He loved Harry but had yet to tell him, and if he was truly honest, he didn't want to say anything yet, enjoying the present time far too much to worry about words.

Louis had fallen in love with life on the sea and rarely spared a thought for life back in England. The thrill of the storms that would occasionally rock the sea, the rain on his bare face when he ordered the crew around beside Harry, the sharp sound of cutlass on cutlass during battle, the adrenaline that flowed through him like a drug never could... Louis had never thought he could live like this. 

Sometimes it was difficult, like when Ed lost his middle, pointer and ring finger in a fight with another crew, or when Zayn got pregnant but lost the baby days after in the same fight Ed lost three of his fingers. They always got through it, however, and Zayn admitted to not even missing the baby (" _Didn't have time to fall in love with it yet, did I?_ "). Louis never said anything when he spotted Zayn crying one night, mumbling a prayer to the sky in Arabic.

All in all, however, Louis knew he had found his calling: his place was on the Cursed Oddysey, besides Harry, and not on a throne in a ballroom listening to foreign ambassadors trying to get him to make a deal for 'the sake of his kingdom'.

"You know, I don't actually suck at this," Louis said, sheathing his cutlass. "I just don't fight in that traditional way you're always buggerin' on about."

"That traditional way is the right way," Zayn pointed out, leaning the flat side of his cutlass on his shoulder.

Louis grinned, shaking his head. "There is no right way to die," he said. "I'm just smart when I fight. I use me feet and me body as a weapon. Maybe not as lethal as a blade, but still."

Zayn and Niall chuckled, unable to disagree with his words.

Louis knew that his way of fighting was unorthodox: the 'traditional' way was to only use your blade, but Louis bit, hit and kicked his way through any fight. He figured his tactic was pretty solid, as he had yet to lose a fight.

But when it came to fighting traditionally, which he was now trying to learn, he did terribly, especially against Zayn, who was quick on his feet and even quicker with his blade.

Louis' attention was then directed to the sight of the captain on the other side of the ship. He had his arms crossed in front of his chest, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration and strands of his long curls flowing in the wind. He was looking out over the sea, and Louis was once again reminded of how strong he looked, how it was so clear that he ruled the seas and everything in them. 

"You're so fuckin' whipped, mate," Niall said, noticing his stare. "You look at him like he's the reason you're alive." 

Louis looked at him with a grin, shrugging. "Aye," he said. "That's my Alpha, I've got every right to stare."

Niall nodded slowly, looking impressed. "Pretty unbelievable, innit? You call him your Alpha and you ain't even mated yet."

"Doesn't happen often," Zayn agreed. "Proves his loyalty to you, though. Bet he hasn't even knotted you yet."

"Fuckin' right he's loyal," Louis said with a bright grin. "And he hasn't knotted me. Would be knocked up by now if he'd done that already."

If he was completely honest, he'd gone through a few pregnancies scares here and there already. Even though the chances of him being pregnant were small, there was still a chance that Louis got knocked up by Harry's precum. Liam had assured him every single time that he didn't need to worry, and that he wasn’t pregnant yet. The word ‘yet’ always got to Louis.

Even though two months had passed, Louis had yet to learn about Harry's past. The only times that there was time to talk about it, Louis and Harry either fucked or slept, too aroused or too tired to really think. 

That was another Louis learned: pirates didn't have sex, they fucked. This was explained to him when Louis had whispered into Harry's ear in a pub in the Cape Colony that he 'wanted to have sex'. Harry had said that if you told a pirate that you were 'having sex with somebody', they would laugh right in your face, but if you said you were 'fucking somebody', they would reply normally, conversationally.

It wasn't because there was some sort of code behind it, but simply because no pirate spoke like a 'gentleman in a dress'—Harry's words.

Admittedly, it was a bit of a rough thing to swallow, but Louis had conformed to it.

Louis loved life in piracy, and he loved Harry, and he had never felt more alive.

 ༻♛༺

Louis bounced up and down on Harry's cock when he was overcome with his third orgasm of that hour, pretty much screaming at that point, a dull pain clenching within his brain for a split second, only to release a shower of tingling, burning pleasure deep enough to shake his bones. He faintly registered Harry pulling out and working himself to an orgasm, his mind, sight and hearing fuzzy. 

He collapsed beside Harry on the bed, his chest heaving in a different kind of fatigue than the one from that morning during his training. A much better kind of fatigue.

"Holy fuck," he panted. "Jesus. Jesus Christ on a cross. Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Holy God."

Harry managed to laugh, which was incredible in and of its own in their state. "Don't think they take too well to you using their names in vain."

"They'd do the same thing if they were here right now," Louis said, before chuckling breathily. "It's not even vain, it's bliss."

After a couple of seconds, Harry reached for a rag on the floor which turned out to be his shirt, but he used it anyway, cleaning him and Louis up as much as possible. He laid down on his stomach, but Louis felt like he couldn't really move, so he stayed in his position: on his back, with only his head turned towards Harry.

Harry was staring at him, and said the same words he said at least once, every single day. "You are so fucking beautiful."

Louis blushed, like he always did, and looked up at the ceiling for a moment before returning his gaze to Harry again. "You always say that. It's starting to lose its meaning."

"No it's not," Harry replied, and Louis agreed. No, it wasn't losing its meaning. It still made him blush, and still made him happy, and still made him feel beautiful.

Harry looked down at his hands for a moment, before looking at Louis again, and Louis couldn't help but smile when he saw it happen again. Harry's eyes: his pupils expanded when he looked at Louis, which always assured Louis about Harry's feelings.

"What?" the captain asked, and Louis shook his head, biting his lip to keep down his smile, although failing miserably.

"It's just..." he hesitated, wondering if he should keep it a secret to enjoy for himself or to tell Harry. He chose the latter. "Do you know your pupils expand when you look at me?"

Harry's eyebrows shot up before he turned the darkest shade of red Louis had ever seen. It was the biggest blush Louis had ever seen on the captain, if not the only one. "You know, that doesn't even surprise me."

Louis could feel it in the air, thick like the fog he had experienced during an early morning in Angola, tense and strong: _I love you_. He knew Harry could feel, if not hear it too, like a quiet whisper from a ghost that didn't dare to reveal itself.

But Louis didn't want to say it, not yet at least, and so he looked for a change of topic. "I have a question," he said, which was true, but also a pretty good way of effectively killing the tense air around them and changing the subject. "Actually, I've got two questions."

Harry frowned for a second, clearly taken aback by the sudden change. "What is it, love?" he asked, reaching his arm out around Louis' waist and pulling him towards himself so that Louis was laying under him.

"How much do tattoos really hurt?" Louis asked, not even fazed by the abrupt change in position, trailing a finger over the butterfly on Harry's stomach. 

Harry smiled down at him. "Why? Are you thinking of getting one?"

Louis shrugged. "Maybe," he said. "I used to hate them, but I've been seeing them on you and they've kind of grown on me."

He was a bit surprised when Harry pecked his lips but still kissed him back. "They hurt, but not a lot," Harry said when he pulled back. "If they hurt so much, nobody would get them, right?"

Louis gave a small smile. "I suppose."

"What was the second question?" Harry asked, trailing his fingers along Louis' jawline. 

Louis bit his lip, hesitating with his second question, which was a little more difficult to ask. "A while ago, before we..." he trailed off, and Harry grinned at his words. "Lazare hurt me, remember? Afterwards, Liam cleaned up my wound, and he said something about 'captain's honours'."

Harry nodded slowly, looking thoughtful. "Took you a long time to ask."

"Never really ought it the right time," Louis said. "And I kind of forgot about it. Then I heard it again a couple of days ago, and it hasn't really left my mind since."

"Well," Harry said, kissing his nose and then both his cheekbones. "It's not an easy thing to explain. Especially when you haven't been a pirate for very long."

Even though it wasn't meant that way, it felt oddly accusing and made Louis frown. "Try me."

Harry sighed softly, but not at Louis, but rather because he was thinking about his next words. "You know I take the rings from the captains I kill?" he said, and Louis nodded. "It's part of captain's honours. A captain's ring makes him the pirate he is. It comes from sort of superstition that nobody really believes in anymore, but... the ring defines you, you get recognised by it." He held up the hand with his rose ring. "This one is mine. When you take a captain's life you have to take his ring in order to keep his honour alive, no matter what type of scum they are."

Louis smirked at that, as Harry had killed some terrible men, including the one that had bought Louis as a slave. "There are some other rules. Like, you're not allowed to get married via the church, you can never abandon your own ship or crew, and you always have to respect another pirate, no matter their age, ethnicity or religion or background."

"You don't really respect your crew as much as they do you," Louis pointed out, and Harry smirked, shaking his head.

"No, that's something else, that has to do with authority," he said. "The type of respect I mean has to do with equality."

Louis furrowed his brows, not understanding what Harry was getting at.

"Equal death," Harry explained, and Louis' face fell a little. "In the end, everyone dies. It's a fact that no one can escape. It's what makes us equal. That's why, no matter who they are, you have to respect a fellow pirate when it comes to battle. When you kill them you look them in the eyes and you let them fight back. Otherwise, you're just another rich man taking a life from a beggar."

"What about Lazare?" Louis asked. "I didn't let him fight."

Harry shook his head, smiling a little. "That was different. He broke a regulation, he didn't engage in a fight with you."

Louis groaned dramatically, rolling onto his side but staying under Harry, who pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "This is bloody complicated."

Harry chuckled. "Don't worry, you'll get it eventually, darling," he said, proceeding to kiss Louis' neck. 

By rolling onto his back, Louis could show Harry his childish pout. "Where's the nickname?"

He could feel Harry smirk against his skin. "Little Prince," he mumbled, kissing Louis' jaw and gently nipping at the skin there.

Louis smiled and pulled Harry up to kiss him, relishing in the feeling that he still got from their kisses. When they kissed, Louis felt alive and strong in ways he wasn't used to, in ways that not even piracy could give him.

Harry made Louis unbelievably happy.


	17. Sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Sexual content warning.**  
>  We've been having a lot of these, haven't we?  
> Starts at: '"Please," Louis whispered...'  
> Ends at: 'He feels immensely happy...'

A couple of days passed, and Louis found himself standing at the back of the ship, letting the sun beat down on his face and watching the water. One of the men had told a story last night about the time he had spotted a mermaid in these waters. Everybody had laughed at him and brushed the story off as nothing but a drunken tale, including Louis, but now that he was standing here he kept unconsciously searching for a mermaid.

Today was another slow day like most days were. The crew sat around lazily, playing cards and taking care of their weapons, sharpening the blades and cleaning out the pistols. It seemed like there wasn’t much to do. Well, that was, until the man in the crow’s nest suddenly spoke up.

”Sail, ho! Sail, ho!”

It meant that another ship was spotted. The crew immediately sprung to life, crewmembers running to their stations just as Harry’s cabin door slammed open and the captain walked out. His face was scrunched up in anger as he put his tricorn on. “Port or starboard?”

”Starboard, Captain!”

Louis quickly ran to the main deck, taking his place beside Harry in front of the railing. “What can you see?” Harry asked him. Louis narrowed his eyes against the sun, but he couldn’t see much of the ship.

”Can’t even make out the flag,” he said, feeling useless. 

Harry noticed and brushed his fingers against Louis’, the action affecting Louis enough to calm down and feel a bit better about himself.

”What do you see, lass?” Harry called out to the crow’s nest.

It was quiet for a few seconds. “Red Ensign, Captain!” Was then heard. It took Louis a moment to remember that ‘red ensign’ meant the British flag. “Blimey! I reckon it’s the Navy, Captain!”

You could hear a pin drop in the sudden silence. Harry’s jaw was set, and after a few seconds, he spoke up. “Prepare the canons.”

Louis furrowed his brows. “D’you really think we’ll fight them?” He asked as the rest of the crew cheered and got ready for battle. “The English Navy?”

”I hope not,” Harry said, shaking his head to himself. “We’ll lose a lot of men.”

Louis still didn’t move to get ready, earning himself Harry’s full attention. “What is it, love?”

“It’s the Navy,” Louis answered. “My Navy. They know my face.”

”And if they see you they’ll know you’re alive,” Harry slowly said, finally grasping what Louis was getting at. “They’ll send people to retrieve you.”

Louis nodded, his jaw tightening. “They’ll kill everyone on the ship.” He breathed in. “They’ll kill you.”

Harry grabbed Louis’ hand, smiling at him. “We have this, remember?” He said, pulling the vial from under Louis’ shirt.

”It makes you stronger, not invincible,” Louis whispered, putting the vial back under his shirt in case any of the crew would see.

”Captain!” The crow’s nest suddenly yelled again. “They don’t want to fight! They want to meet!”

”The fuck they want to meet?” Harry immediately said, his sweet demeanour towards Louis promptly disappearing. When they looked at the Navy ship that was now much closer, they saw that their flag was only raised halfway.

If Harry did the same thing, one of the captains would go to the other ship to discuss a trade or treaty. If Harry didn’t do the same thing, the ship would pass and nothing would happen. “Lower the flag!” Harry suddenly yelled.

Louis snapped his head to Harry in surprise. “What are you doing? They’ll see me!”

”I’ll go to their ship,” Harry said, grabbing his shoulders. “Go to my quarters, and stay inside till I tell you otherwise, got it?”

All Louis could do was nod shakily. Harry kissed his forehead before gently pushing him towards his cabin. Louis did as his captain said and walked into the cabin, closing the door and leaning against it.

The Navy couldn’t see him. If he was to be found out his new life would be gone in a flash: there would be an all-out war between England and pirates all over the world. His father would be dethroned for lying, and Louis would be put in his place, forced to rule and to find another Alpha as his mate. But something far worse than all of that combined was Harry’s fate: he would be hanged for conspiring against the throne.

Louis sat down in one of the chairs, but after a few minutes, the door slammed open and Harry appeared in the doorway with frantic eyes. “Hide,” he said, pointing to his closet. “Now. They’re coming here.”

”What? But, I thought—“ Louis said, but Harry didn’t let him talk and pulled him up from his seat roughly, dragging him to the closet. 

“Be quiet. Not a sound, understood?” Harry said, pushing Louis inside. Louis nodded, swallowing thickly and trembling with fear. Harry looked at him before leaning forward and pressing their lips together in a bittersweet and desperate kiss. “I love you,” he mumbled, and before Louis could reply, closed the closet doors.

Louis could suddenly hear his own breathing, and he slid down onto his knees, the clothing around him serving as a curtain of Harry’s scent that helped calm him down. He couldn’t fuck this up, he really couldn’t.

It didn’t take long before Louis could hear muffled voices. “Captain Styles,” a rough voice said, one that Louis’ immediately recognised.

It was Bedford, one of his father’s closest officials and also on the list of suitable mates for Louis: a list his father had made for him. Bedford was a mean, stern and merciless Alpha who looked down on Omegas like they were the filth of the earth.

For a while, Louis used to believe the same thing about himself. Thank God age and wisdom made him see different about that.

“You goin’ to tell me your name, knave?” Harry said, his voice low and sharp, making Louis shiver.

“Knave?” Bedford said, chuckling. “Is that some of that infamous pirate slang I’ve heard about?”

Harry didn’t answer that. “What do you want?”

There was small, condescending sigh on Bedford’s part, and Louis knew for a fact that Harry’s anger must’ve flared up at it. He didn’t let anybody look down on him. “I’m here to make a trade. Oh, no, pardon me, I think the word deal fits this situation better.”

Louis hadn’t missed the way of talking from the higher-ups. Especially not from Bedford.

”A deal?” Harry said, mockingly. “Why would I make a deal with a swab, aye?”

”A swab? That doesn’t sound like a compliment.”

There was a silence.

”Fine.” Bedford sighed. “I’ll keep it simple. We have reason to believe you hold the Prince of England on this ship.”

Louis’ heart sunk to the bottom of his stomach.

”Hand him over, we’ll let you and your crew go unharmed. Don’t, and, well... I’m sure you see my point.”

Harry laughed humourlessly. “Your Prince isn’t here,” he said, sounding cold as he spoke, and Louis had to keep reminding himself that it was an act and that Harry loved him—he had said so only minutes ago. “How about you fuck off, yeah? I can’t help you.”

”Where was it that he was seen?” Bedford said, pretending to sound thoughtful. “Angola, I think. Seen kissing the famed Captain Styles.”

It was dead quiet.

”That’s the thing with Alphas like us, Styles,” Bedford continued. “We can’t help ourselves when it comes to Omegas. Especially with Omegas like the Prince.” He chuckled to himself. “I get it. I was supposed to be his mate, appointed by his Majesty himself.”

Louis knew, without a doubt, that Harry had to be fuming now. “Poor Prince Louis, to have an Alpha like you as his mate,” he said, and Louis smirked. “But I don’t have him. In fact, I’ve heard he’s dead.”

There was another silence. “Very well, Styles. Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Bedford said, and Louis heard the sound of a chair scraping over the floor. “Oh, and when you do see the Prince,” Bedford suddenly said, revealing that he hadn’t believed a word Harry had told him. “Tell him his sister Charlotte is expecting. The nurses say it’s going to be a son. She’d love for her brother to be there for the christening of his nephew.”

Lottie was pregnant. It couldn’t be possible, it simply couldn’t. She was too young, and Louis had only been gone for three months. It was a lie, it had to be.

”You’re lying,” Harry said, seemingly thinking the same thing as Louis.

”Oh, but I’m not,” Bedford said, and Louis could practically hear him smirk. “I can’t wait to be a father.”

Louis had to refrain from jumping out of the closet to kill Bedford right then and there. 

“I thought the princesses were all betas?”

”They were. Until the eldest presented Omega. Truly a shame her brother wasn’t there for her when it happened.”

Then there were footsteps and the sound of the door opening and closing. Louis wanted to get out of the closet but didn’t move, knowing he had to wait for permission.

The doors suddenly opened and Louis rushed into Harry’s arms. “I know, love, I’m here,” he whispered to Louis, holding him tightly as he sunk to the floor. “I’m here.”

Louis shakily breathed in and out, barely able to contain all the emotions rushing through his body. “She’s sixteen,” he said, referring to his sister. “Sixteen, Haz.”

”You’re nineteen, love, you’re not much older,” Harry said, and Louis pulled back from his embrace, shaking his head.

”You don't understand,” he said. “I was the one in line for the throne, I was supposed to have children early to assure my next of kin; Lottie was supposed to live normally. She could die, Haz!”

There was sympathy written all over Harry’s face. “I’m so sorry, Louis,” he softly said. “I wish there was something we could do, love, but I’m afraid we’re powerless.”

”I know,” Louis said. “It’s just—it’s fucked up. She’s a child. No, you know what, she was a Beta when I left! She probably presented days after my disappearance!” He looked up at the ceiling. “Fuck you!” He yelled at God. “Fuck you for destroying everything!”

Harry pulled Louis into his chest again. “Easy, darling,” he whispered. “Easy.”

Louis complied easily. How could he not?

”I’ll kill him,” he said, referring to Bedford and making Harry smile proudly, which should be morbid, but it just simply wasn’t. “I’ll slit his fucking throat.”

”Then I’ll hold him down for you.”

 ༻♛༺

The navy had moved on without any trouble. Apart from some insults thrown at Bedford, Harry’s crew stayed relatively calm, which was a miracle in and of its own: they weren’t known for being the most merciless crew in all the seas for nothing.

Louis had taken a few hours to himself on the ship, and thankfully, Harry seemed to have understood that he wanted to be alone for a bit.

It still hadn’t truly sunken in that Lottie was pregnant and that she was an Omega like Louis. The fact that she was sixteen and Bedford twenty-four only made it that much worse. Louis wanted to blame himself for not going back to England when he had the chance, but then he remembered that it probably would’ve been him who was pregnant with Bedford’s kid, and that was only if he had somehow managed to get back to the palace in time. Realistically, it probably would’ve taken him months to get home, and he would’ve still been too late.

All Louis now knew, was that he loathed his father for allowing these things to happen and that he wanted to take his revenge. Badly.

By the time it was dinner, Louis’ senses started to come back to him, and he remembered what Harry had said to him, something that had been overruled by the other things said afterwards: _I love you_.

Louis returned to the cabin with the full intention of reciprocating, but when he walked inside and found Harry sitting on the bed and studying one of his rings, he was overcome with such a strong sense of emotion that he could only march over and kiss Harry.

It went without saying that Harry kissed him back, grabbing his hips and pulling him on the bed. He hovered over Louis as they kissed passionately, one hand on Louis’ hip and the other beside Louis’ head to keep himself up.

 _I love you_.

Their tongues slid together and Louis tugged on Harry’s hair, nearly whining in need. Harry’s hand slipped under his shirt to rest on his bare skin just under his ribcage.

 _I love you_.

There was a strong response from Louis’ body, which was on fire in ways that had his mind fuzzy and a throbbing mess.

 _I love you_.

Harry started kissing down Louis’ neck, making Louis gasp and moan softly. Harry’s curls tickled his chin, his lips hot against his neck and his hand still on his body, keeping him in place.

”I love you.”

It slipped last Louis’ lips before he realised it, but when he said it he knew that there couldn’t have been a better moment. Harry, understandably, stopped kissing Louis’ neck and lifted his head. He had the brightest smile Louis had ever seen on him, clearly elated with the fact that Louis felt the same.

”I love you too,” he whispered, softly pecking Louis’ lips.

Louis felt a little choked up all of a sudden. “Can you say it again?”

Harry seemed more than happy to. “I love you.”

A tear escaped Louis’ eyes, rolling down the side of his face and onto the pillow. “I love you too.”

Harry smiled gently, bringing the hand on Louis’ ribcage to his cheek to wipe the tear away, proceeding to brush the hair from Louis’ forehead. “What’s wrong, love? Why are you crying?”

Louis shrugged, casting his eyes downwards to look at Harry’s body. “I just...” he looked into Harry’s eyes again. “I’m so happy. I’m so, so happy when I’m with you.”

Harry pecked Louis' lips, still smiling that gentle smile. "You make me happy too," he said, kissing his cheek, his nose, and his other cheek. "Happier than I've ever been." He kissed the tears that were now escaping Louis' eyes. "You make me a better man. You're kind and beautiful, so fucking beautiful." He pecked Louis' lips again. "Absolutely perfect."

Unable to control himself any longer, Louis pulled Harry down to attach their lips. It was an open-mouthed, feverish kiss that had them panting into each other's mouths. 

"Please," Louis murmured into Harry's mouth, not making any sense. "Want you to knot me."

Harry chuckled, biting Louis' lower lip playfully. "I can't, darling," he whispered. "Could knock you up."

"It never happens the first time," Louis replied. "You know that the first time doesn't work."

"It's a small chance, but still a chance," Harry said, kissing Louis again, who pushed him back with a frown.

"You don't want a baby with me?"

Harry gave him a look. "I want everything with you," he said, making Louis' heart soar. "But I haven't even mated you yet." To drive his point further home, he ran his fingers over Louis' unmarked gland. 

"Please," Louis whispered, and to drive his point further home, he reached into Harry's pants and shoved his hand between his legs. Harry inhaled sharply, his eyes screwing shut. His body, of course, immediately responded. 

"Fuck, Louis," he groaned, and Louis started pumping his hand up and down. He relished in the way Harry's face contorted in horribly contained pleasure, clearly trying not to give in. "I—I can't knock you up."

"Then at least fuck me," Louis said, and Harry agreed with his plans by kissing him deeply. 

They didn't bother to get fully undressed, only pulling their pants down far enough to do what they needed to do. Harry lowered his hand to use his fingers, but Louis stopped him by grabbing his wrist. "Don't," he simply said. "Not this time."

"Have to loosen you up, darling," Harry said. "It could hurt otherwise."

"Good," Louis said, and Harry's eyes widened for a moment.

"Fuck, I love you," he groaned out and smashed their lips together. Harry lined himself up with Louis, and because the latter was soaking wet, there was hardly any resistance apart from a tightness that was usually worked away by the time they got to this part.

When Harry started pushing in it felt a lot more intense than before, which meant that Louis response was a lot more intense than usual. His mouth opened in a silent moan, his nails digging into Harry's back and staggering breaths escaping his opened mouth. Harry kissed him as he moved out slowly and then back in again. Louis moaned loudly, clinging onto Harry like he was the last thing keeping him alive.

As Harry's pace fastened Louis' moans got quicker and louder, his arms falling away from Harry's back (which was probably completely scratched up again). Harry grabbed Louis' hands, lacing their fingers together and leaning up just a little more, which changed their angle and made Louis cry out because they were hitting  _that_ spot again.

"Oh, my God, yes!" Louis said, gripping Harry's hands as he bucked up his own hips in time with Harry's thrusts. 

It wasn't long before he starting reaching his high, and it seemed that Harry was close behind. The thing was, was that he didn't pull out. If anything, his thrusts got more erratic. "Haz." Louis tried to talk, but it just came out as a cry of pleasure. "What are you—"

He gets cut off by a particularly good thrust. "Knottin' you," Harry replied between grunts. "It's what you want, innit?"

Oh.  _Oh_. It's happening, then, it's really happening. "Fuck, yes, please."

Louis didn't know how knotting worked, had never gotten an explanation about it. He could only expect that Harry knew how it worked. He seemed to understand it, however, because he suddenly slowed down and kept his thrusts short, pulling out slowly and then slamming back in.

He comes with a strangled moan and slams in one last time. His knot pops then, and it's such an intense sensation combined with the feeling of Harry coming inside of him that Louis orgasms with a scream that repeats itself again, and again, and again. His brain whites out completely and he comes so hard he doesn't think it'll ever stop. In a way, it doesn't, and Louis rides the high for a long time.

Their sex position had been vanilla, incredibly so, but the way it ended was so, so far from vanilla. If anything, it was fucking obscene.

He starts coming back right when Harry's knot starts going down. It's only then that he hears Harry's _whining,_ quietly and barely audible but it's there and it makes Louis want to cry again.

He feels immensely happy, and he's not sure if it's because he just got knotted or because he's freely and truly in love. It's got to be a mix of both, just like their voices mix when they both whisper into the thick air, quiet yet thunderous:

"I love you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol the metaphor for Louis being in the closet when Harry and Bedford are talking... ‘only allowed out with permission’ Jesus I didn’t realise the double meaning until I was proof reading this.


	18. Scurvy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much angst in this chapter, so so much.
> 
> Also, this chapter is quite long.

Louis and Niall had gotten along from the moment they met. Maybe it was because of the circumstances they had met under: those had been stressful if anything. Maybe it was because they were simply compatible. Nonetheless, they told each other a lot of things, so it wasn't like Louis was _springing_  this on him when he sits down beside Niall in the early morning and says, "Harry knotted me."

Niall blinks at him for a second. "Pardon?" he said, surprisingly posh.

"He knotted me."

"Yeah, no, I heard you," Niall said, still looking a bit dazed. "You just—you really know how to spring this on a person." He yawns, and Louis has to remind himself that he's only just gotten out of bed and wasn't yawning because he was bored by Louis' story. "So what changed? I thought you didn't want to get knocked up."

"I mean, not yet, anyway," Louis said, not seeing the point in denying he wanted to have a baby eventually. "Like, eventually, yeah, just not right now."

Niall furrows his brows, clearly confused. "Then why did you get knotted? That's, like, _the_ way to get knocked up."

Louis punched his shoulder. "Whatever," he said because he didn't have anything else to bring into it; nothing valid, anyway. Niall had a point, simple as that.

"But, hey, good for you mate," Niall said, patting Louis' leg with a small smile. "Maybe now he'll finally mate you."

Louis shook his head, a disappointed look crossing his face. "No, we haven't really... you know. Talked about that, yet."

A surprised look passed Niall's features. "That's usually what you talk about when you knot someone, you know," he said before his eyes widened almost comically. "Wait—he didn't, like, force it on you, did he?"

"What—no! Jesus, Niall," Louis exclaimed, and Niall quickly held his hands up in defence.

"Just checkin', Alphas can lose control like that, you know," he said.

Louis deflated, shaking his head again. "Not Harry," he said, more to himself than to Niall, like he needed to reassure himself. "He loves me, he wouldn't do that."

Niall just smiled. "I know, mate."

It didn't make Louis feel much better about the situation. Now there was just a stupid, relentless nagging in his head about the fact that he couldn't get pregnant if Harry hadn't mated him yet. Not just because it was something close to blasphemy, but because it didn't feel safe enough for Louis. He didn't want a baby from somebody who wasn't his mate, but the problem was that up until a few weeks ago, Louis didn't even want a mate. 

He felt confused about everything now, even though he knew he was in love with Harry and wanted _everything_ with him. 

༻♛༺  

It’s another two weeks later when it happens.

’It’ being the collapse of one of the crewmembers. It happened suddenly, in broad daylight. A man, Diedrick, walked onto the deck into the sunlight, only to promptly collapse on the wooden deck.

He started spasming and letting pained sounds escape his lips, and a crowd quickly formed around him. Louis went to see what was going on, but was pulled back by Harry who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. “Don’t come closer. Could be infectious,” he said, and then walked to the crowd himself, leaving a dumbfounded Louis behind.

Liam pushed his way through the crowd with his leather medical bag, dropping beside Diedrick and taking out—a lime?

He ripped the fruit open with his bare hands and emptied the juice in Diedrick’s mouth. Louis could almost taste the sour juice.

Liam forced the man’s mouth closed and pinched his nose so that the was forced to swallow the lime juice. After a few seconds Liam let go and called for a stretcher. Apparently, they had one on the go, because not only a minute later two men came with a stretcher. Diedrick was lifted onto the stretcher and then carried away to the sleeping quarters.

”Back to your stations,” Harry ordered the crew who immediately complied, muttering to each other and themselves about the debacle they had just witnessed. Liam walked over to the captain and Louis seized the opportunity to get closer. 

“Is it what I think it is?” Harry asked Liam in a low voice, sparing Louis a quick glance. 

Liam nodded with a solemn look. “Yeah. Scurvy.”

 ༻♛༺ 

“Bloody gums, rotting teeth, swelling in the arms and legs, bruising,” Liam said, listing off symptom after symptom of scurvy. “Pinpoint bleeding around hair follicles, fever... he checks every box scurvy disease has, Captain.”

Harry rubbed his forehead as he leaned on the desk with his other hand. “Fuckin’ hell.”

”How does one get scurvy, exactly?” Louis asked, his arms crossed in a way that made it seem like he was physically holding himself together. 

Liam looked at him with a sympathetic gaze. “A lack of vitamin C, mostly,” he said. “It’s mostly found in oranges, lemons, limes, even carrots.”

”Hence the lime earlier on,” Louis said, now understanding why Liam had forced Diedrick to drink the juice.

Liam nodded with a small smile. “Right on.”

”Louis, how’s our inventory?” Harry asked, looking at him.

Louis racked his brain for the details. “I thought we were well on, but clearly not,” he said. “Last time I checked was two weeks ago, when you asked me to. We were fine, although we were going through food faster than usual, but I didn’t think it would cause this.”

”Shit,” Harry said, kicking his desk and then lifting his tricorn to run a hand through his hair. “The crew knows what it looks like, they know we’re fucked.”

”What do you mean?” Louis asked, taking a step forward as though he needed to be physically active in order to stay in the conversation. “Is it contagious?”

”That would be more ideal,” Liam said with a solemn look. “Scurvy is like dominos. When one person gets it it’s because there isn’t enough fruit on the ship. It’s only a matter of time for the next victims. If it was contagious we would just kill Diedrick and throw his body overboard. We’d be fine.”

Both scenarios were morbid. 

“A lot of the crew could die,” Liam continued, now fully to Harry. “We need to dock as soon as possible to get food.”

”I know,” Harry mumbled, before looking at Louis. “Do you realise how serious this is?”

”Yes.”

Harry breathes in. “I can’t die from this,” he said. “My blood makes it impossible, but you...”

It takes a second, but then Louis sees where Harry is going and frantically shakes his head. “No. No way. Not happening. In no way am I injecting myself with that blood.”

“Louis, you could die,” Harry said.

”So can you!” Louis replied, neither of them aware of a gradually more uncomfortable Liam. “What if we don’t get back to Madagascar in time? You’d need this.” He takes out the vial from under his shirt. “Or what if it kills me because it’s not made from my blood?”

Anger flares in Harry’s eyes. He turned to Liam, who quickly nodded, muttering a, “Captain,” before rushing out of the room. Louis had half a mind to follow him.

”Louis, listen to me,” Harry said, straightening his back. “Scurvy is one of the most painful diseases imaginable. You could suffer horribly. It will feel like your stomach is ripping open over and over again.”

”Can’t be much more painful than giving birth,” Louis snapped. “Something I’ll probably go through as well, mind you!”

Harry lets out a sharp breath that resembled a surprised, disbelieving laugh. “Giving...” he trailed off. “Pregnancy creates life. Scurvy death. Don’t dare to compare it, Louis.”

And Louis knows he’s right and deflates a little, but is still set on his words. “I’m not injecting myself. It’s not happening.”

”Louis—“

”No. I’m not changing my mind,” Louis said, and turns around to leave.

”Turn around!” Harry suddenly yelled, using his Alpha voice which had such a strong effect on Louis that he whimpers and turns around, his Omega cowering—which meant that Louis cowered, now trembling and barely unable to keep his gaze at Harry instead of the floor.

Harry regretted using his Alpha voice, that much was clear from his expression. “Shit, Lou, I—I’m sorry, that was wrong of me to do.” 

Louis just nodded, still scared from the voice, even if he knew it was okay and that Harry hadn’t meant to use it. Harry immediately comes around the desk when he sees Louis’ distress. He wrapped his arms around who Louis who sagged against him and whined, clinging onto Harry like he was his last lifeline.

"I'm sorry," Harry repeated, before he sighed. "I'm just so fucking terrified that you're going to get hurt in some way. I couldn't care less about myself, but you..." 

Louis feels like crying. He doesn't, but he still feels like it. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Louis can hear the smile in Harry's voice when he says it.

༻♛༺

It's another week later when Louis finds out he has scurvy.

During the week, eight more men were declared too unfit to work by Liam. Their bodies are bruised, stomachs swollen and cries of pain close to unbearable. Diedrick died two days ago, and it was only a matter of time before the rest did too.

Louis knows he has the disease too when he lists all the symptoms to Liam when they're alone. He thought he was pregnant again, but as he listed his fatigue, his loss of appetite, his aching legs and his irritability, Liam's face fell. He put his hand on Louis' forehead to detect a fever. When his face whitened Louis knew something was wrong.

"Fuck off," was the first thing he said when Liam told him that these were early symptoms of scurvy.

"I'm really sorry, Louis," Liam said, giving him a pitiful look. It made Louis feel like a child. "It's going to get worse from here on out. Your gums are going to start hurting and will eventually bleed. You could even lose a few teeth. Your body will start bruising, your chest is going to hurt, you'll have trouble breathing..."

Louis took a moment to breathe in and out, and Liam waited with a patient smile. "So, I'm going to die?"

Liam's smile fell. "It's a possibility," he said, his voice a lot quieter. "However, if we got some fruit into your system your body will have more strength to fight the scurvy. Hold it off, in a way, at least until we find a place to dock." He hesitated for a moment. "The captain could get extra food for you, he would in a heartbeat."

"No!" Louis quickly said, shaking his head frantically. "We can't tell Harry. You can't. At least, not until it starts getting bad and I can't hide it anymore."

Liam looked conflicted, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of keeping something from his captain. Louis understood his attitude towards it all: keeping something as important as this from Harry was nearing the brink of dangerous.

"Fine," he eventually said. "But I'm not takin' the heat for this if it comes down to it."

Louis nodded, agreeing with him. "Yeah, I know."

When he stood up he stumbled a little, but both he and Liam pretended like it hadn't happened: Louis because he was stubborn, and Liam because he felt guilty.

As he walked onto the main deck, his eyes fell on Harry standing beside Ed. They were discussing a place to dock, and the rush behind it was bigger than ever and only grew with each passing hour. There wasn't a doubt in Louis' mind that Harry will figure something out, but there was a doubt that it will be in time for Louis.

There was no chance that Louis was going to tell Harry, however, because he can’t have the captain worrying about him. The thing is, that Louis knows Harry would get him extra fruit in a heartbeat—hell, Harry would kill someone would Louis ask him to. He can’t have Harry do that, however, because he can’t have the crew thinking that he’s getting special treatment simply because he’s in bed with the captain. Well, it’s not that simple per say, but it brings his point across fairly well.

Louis just hopes they’ll dock in time.

He knows the next few days are going to be tough, but he’ll need to fight through it.

As it turns out, Louis was right. The next few days are tough. With each passing hour he gets weaker and weaker. He smiles less and less because it’s hurting his gums that sometimes bleed, and his limbs are starting to ache. A fever is never ending, and each time Harry comments on the fact that Louis feels warmer than normal, Louis tells him it’s just the sun. Nevermind his temperature doesn’t change during the night when the sun is gone.

It’s exactly six days later, during an early morning, that Louis knows he can’t keep hiding his illness much longer. Harry is getting dressed in front of him, but Louis is still in the bed, under the covers and unmoving as he watches Harry, his back leaning against the headboard of the bed.

”Shouldn’t you get dressed?” Harry asked him with a smirk, aware of the fact that Louis was staring at him.

”I enjoy watching you, though,” Louis replied, sending the captain a smile. It isn’t a lie, at least not normally, but he has an entirely different reason for staying under the covers.

Harry walked over—saundered, really—and sat down on the edge of the bed. He put a hand and Louis’ thigh that’s hidden by the covers, squeezing it, and Louis has to pretend that it doesn’t hurt. “We’re docking in a couple of days,” Harry said with a smile. “We’ll get to eat. I’ll take you someplace fancy, treat you like a right royal.”

Louis smiled widely and leaned forward to peck his lips. “I’d like that,” he said, resting his forehead against Harry’s and trying not to show the strain it takes for him to sit up straight. “Just the two of us?”

”Of course,” Harry said, and placed a hand on Louis’ cheek. He strokes his thumb over Louis’ cheekbone and then kisses him.

After a few seconds, he pulled back and stood up. “Get dressed, love,” he said as he grabbed his tricorn and walked to the door. “Can’t have my Omega missin’ on the deck.”

Louis kept smiling till the moment the door closed and Harry was gone. He abruptly dropped his smile and leaned back against the headboard, taking a few deep breaths to try and calm the pain in his stomach. It‘s not really working.

He knows he has to get out of bed, and reluctantly pulls the blanket away from his legs, revealing a giant, almost black bruis on his thigh. It appeared quickly and suddenly yesterday morning, and obviously, Harry hadn’t seen it yet. Louis was lucky that last night Harry had returned to the cabin late and they had no choice but to have sex in the complete dark—it was good for Louis, because he had been able to hide the bruises. 

There wasn’t just one on his thigh, but multiple ones covering his body. His arms and chest were the most prominent places, but now the one on his upper leg was the worst.

Louis put his feet on the floor and stood up, only to feel a sharp sting shoot through his stomach which made him fall on his knees with a pained gasp. He has to sit there for a full minute to try and catch his breath. When he finally does manage to get up, it’s slow and staggeringly, like an old man approaching the end of his days.

”Fuck,” Louis muttered to himself when he has to grab onto the bed post to stay upright. He takes a few more breaths. “Come on. You’re a bloody pirate, act like it.”

After ten minutes filled with pain and trouble with getting dressed, Louis is finally ready to get out on the deck.

He opened the door and stepped out onto the deck, into the sun. He suddenly got dizzy, really dizzy, and the sun seemed a lot stronger than it usually was. He looked around the deck, dazed and feeling like he was about to pass out.

He can faintly register someone say his name, but he can’t place who it is or where they’re coming from. The next thing he knows is that the sky is suddenly overtaking his peripheral, and then there’s a thud that he realises comes from his body—he must’ve fallen on his back—and it’s followed by excruciating pain everywhere, from the very tips of his fingers down to to his toes. 

Everything is distorted and an immense pain is shooting through his stomach, stronger than the pain in the rest of his limbs, each one more painful than the last, and his body starts spasming from the pain. He cries out, needing the pain to stop and for somebody to do something, _anything_. 

People are yelling his name, and he can feel familiar hands under his head and on his cheek, and the hands have cold spots—rings? The person is saying something, but Louis doesn’t know what. Then someone forces his mouth open and his nose closes and suddenly everything tastes sour and he wants to scream but can’t because he can’t breathe with his mouth filled and his nose closed off and now someone’s forcing his mouth shut—

” _Swallow_ , Lou, _please_. I know it hurts but you have to _swallow_ ,” a voice says urgently, and Louis can’t really hear it but he knows it’s Harry and knows he can trust Harry and swallows the sour concoction.

It burns his throat and only worsens the pain in his stomach. He’s struggling to breathe, swinging his arms around to find something to take away the pain, and then his body can’t take the pain anymore and everything goes dark, the panic around him fading into nothing—it’s white noise, and then it’s quiet.

He assumes that this is what death feels like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HE’S NOT DEAD (yet hehe) I PROMISE
> 
> Oh my God I’m such a bitch for ending it like this but it was just such a perfect cliffhanger and ending for this chapter I’m sorry,,,,,,
> 
> It’s okay to hate on me I won’t take it personally I kind of hate myself too for writing this if I’m honest.
> 
> There’s no MCD I promise


	19. Pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo this chapter starts with angst (because I like seeing you all suffer xoxo) and it actually gets really super sad, but it ends with fluff (hopefully enough to make up for all the angst).

“You should’ve told me! You should’ve fucking known better than to keep this from me!”

”Louis—he asked me—“

”Are you a fucking servant boy? You have your own fucking brain, use it for once!”

Everything’s distorted.

Louis keeps swimming in and out of consciousness, and there’s voices and touches on his forehead and the rest of his body and the words ‘please wake up’ keep repeating and there’s so, so much pain, endless pain, like his body is trying to turn itself inside out.

”We can’t give him the blood, Captain, he’s too weak, it’ll kill him.”

”He’s dying, Liam! Why didn’t you fucking tell me! We could’ve stopped this from happening!”

It’s Harry, it’s got to be Harry. Everything goes black for a little bit again, and then Louis heards a different set of voices. 

“Brought him some water, Cap’n.”

”Thank you. Niall, right?”

”Aye. How’s he—fuckin’ hell. He’s... my apologies, Cap’n, but I don’t think I can handle seein’ ‘im like this.”

Niall sounds scared. He’s never scared. Louis must look pretty bad then. Hopefully not as bad as he feels, because then it’s hopeless.

It starts getting difficult separating dreams from reality. One moment he sees a blurry outline of the Cursed Odyssey’s ceiling, then he’s looking at his sisters, then he’s on top of Harry and kissing him, and then there’s the ceiling again. Sounds don’t make sense either—he sees the ceiling but hears his mother’s laughter. Then he’s laughing with Harry on a beach, but Harry’s bright voice contradicts the concerned voice that keeps saying, “Come back to me, love. Wake up. For me, yeah? Don’t leave me.”

God, the pain. There’s so much, most of it in his stomach, like it’s ripping open over and over again, stitching itself close only to rip open again.

Louis doesn’t know how much time passes. It’s a lot, however, because the voice gets more and more desperate and his consciousness gets lesser and lesser. There’s a lot of darkness and lesser ceiling, and the pillows he’s on start disappearing from his touch. The hands that keep touching him get less prominent—he can feel them, but it gets more difficult to really _feel_ them. It takes a lot of concentration, which he also starts losing.

At one point, however, he’s shaken. Roughly. “Louis! Louis! Please, fuck, don’t, don’t!”

”Harry, he’s back, it’s alright, he’s back.”

Louis is the only one who’s allowed to call Harry by his name. There’s an intruder, it’s not right.

”He... he was...” there’s a pause, “he was gone, Liam, he was dead.”

”But he’s back now, he’s okay.”

“Fucking look at him and tell me he’s okay. He’s not okay. He’s not. Why didn’t you tell me, Liam? Are you not my friend?”

It’s dark again. It stays dark for a long time. Louis feels weak, and sometimes he’s floating. The pain isn’t as bad anymore, but each time it disappears he’s shaken again and there’s Harry’s panicked voice telling him to, “Don’t!”. Don’t what? Don’t sleep?

Louis isn’t trying to leave. He promises that, but he can’t talk; it takes too much energy. 

Sometimes he can hear crying. He doesn’t know who it is, but he thinks it’s Harry. He can’t be sure, he’s never heard Harry cry before—at least, not like this. He’s seen him let go of a few tears, but never has he heard him sob like this. It’s pained, so much more than the pain Louis feels.

He wants to reach out to Harry, hold his hand and tell him he’s okay, but his limbs are so so heavy, and everything is cloudy and he’s just so tired.

The pain still doesn’t cease.

But it suddenly changes. “Louis, love, open your mouth,” Harry says—at least, Louis thinks it’s Harry. It has to be. “Please, this will make it better, I promise.”

Louis trusts Harry’s promises, he always will, and so he puts every last but of energy he has into parting his lips and forcing his jaw open. Something’s put in his mouth, and it tastes sweet and it’s soft. Somebody helps him chew.

And then he swallows what he knows is food, and he feels just a bit stronger.

The next few days go on like that. Somebody (Harry?) puts food in his mouth and helps him chew and swallow. Louis starts getting an idea of time again, knows when it’s night and when it’s day. It’s how he knows it takes him two days to fully open his eyes. When he does, it’s not dark, but not light either. It’s somewhere in between, like a late evening or an early morning.

He can’t really move, and just lets his eyes shoot around the room. He’s breathing slowly, but it picks up when he sees Harry, who’s sitting in an armchair beside the bed Louis is in, his cheek in his hand and his elbow on the arm rest. He’s asleep, and looks absolute miserable with dark bags under his eyes that look darler due to his unusually pale skin.

Louis opens his mouth to talk, but nothing comes out. His throat is dry and hurts. He tries to swallow a few times, tries talking again, but nothing works.

Then he remembers he has hands that he can use to touch Harry, to try and wake him. But when he tries to lift his arm it’s heavy, like it weighs ten times it usually does. He needs to touch Harry, however, needs to know he’s real and not another dream, so Louis uses every ounce of willpower he has to life his hand, and then his arm.

It’s excruciatingly heavy and painful and slow, and Louis let’s out a lot of pained groans, but eventually he manages to get his hand on the one Harry has on his lap.

Harry doesn’t wake, and Louis uses his last bit of strength to stroke his thumb over Harry’s hand. Harry’s eyes open then, and he blinks a few times before he sees that Louis is awake.

He let’s out a couple of surprised breaths, grips Louis’ hand tightly and then pulls him into the tightest hug Louis’ had ever experienced.

”You’re awake, you’re alive,” Harry says, and he sounds breathless and deeply relieved. Louis can feel tears drop on his neck. He doesn’t have the strength to hug Harry back, but Harry doesn’t seem too bothered by that.

When he pulls back his eyes are still wide and red rimmed from his tears and his exhaustion. He puts one hand behind Louis’ head and the other on his cheek, holding him in an upright position. “I love you,” he says, and it’s the most confident tone of voice Louis had ever heard, on anybody. “I love you, so fucking much. I’m going to marry you after this, mate you, everything. I love you, God help me I do.”

And Louis wants to say it back, wants to tell him to get a bloody ring already, but he can’t because his throat is just too dry. Harry seems to notice and uses the hand on Louis’ cheek to reach for a cup that he holds up to Louis lips.

Louis sips a couple of times and then finds enough strength in his arms to grab the cup and down its contents in seconds. He pants and drops the cup, too weak again to hold it up any longer. 

“Get me a fucking ring already, then,” he says, and Harry looks like he’s the happiest man walking the earth.

It goes without saying that they kiss passionately and feverishly for a few minutes, as it has been quite a while since they’ve had any sort of affection.

”I’m angry at you for hiding that you were ill,” Harry mumbles. “But I’m willing to look past it for now. I don’t ever want it happening again, though, understood? Next time something is wrong, you come to me.”

Then Harry pulls back reluctantly and actually looks apologetic when he says, “Let me go get the medic, he needs to check up on you once every few hours.”

“Liam?” Louis asks, needs to make sure that it’s him, and Harry nods curtly. He carefully lays Louis down on the pillows again and gets up to open the door. He calls out Liam’s name and it doesn’t take long before Liam is sitting by Louis’ side.

He’s sitting in the chair Harry was in, and Louis is now sitting up as well, leaning against the headboard with a bunch of pillows propped up behind him. Liam has a bruise on his jaw and is sporting a black eye: it doesn’t take Louis long to realise that Harry gave him the bruises, most likely because he had been angry at Liam for not coming to him when he found out Louis had scurvy. It makes Louis feel guilty, because he had been the one to tell Liam to stay quiet about this—Liam had gotten the heat in the end, even though he had specifically stated to Louis that he wasn’t going to let that happen: it just proved how great of a friend Liam was— _is_.

”Any pain?” Liam asks, after asking him if he has trouble seeing (he doesn’t) and if he remembers anything from the last week (he also doesn’t). All the while, he’s smiling at Louis. He’s clearly happy that Louis is okay, and doesn’t seem affected by the fact that he got beat up by his own captain.

“A bit, when I move my arms and legs,” Louis answers. “My stomach feels kind of weird, a little dull? Like, empty or something?”

Harry and Liam share a look, and Harry clears his throat, looking away. Louis immediately catches up on the fact that something is being held from him.

”What?” He asks, but neither Alphas answer. “This is my health we’re talking about, at least tell me what’s up with it!”

Liam puts a hand on Louis’ shoulder. “It’s not... it’s not an easy thing to say, Louis,” he says, and retreats his hand to his lap where it had previously been. He sighs. “When you passed out, we put you in this bed to make you comfortable. Because you barely ate for days on end, only water and sometimes managed a bit of food, your body was weak.” He pauses. “A couple of days ago, you started whining, but not in pain, in sadness—it was odd, we thought that maybe you needed your Alpha. But when we pulled back the sheets there was blood. A lot of it.” Liam sighs and runs a hand over his face. “You were pregnant, Louis. Somehow, you got pregnant, but the fetus couldn’t survive without food and died.”

”You had a baby,” Harry whispers, and there’s tears escaping his eyes. “We were going to have a baby, but it didn’t survive.”

Louis can’t really move. Can’t really think. There’s a lot of pain again, but it’s different. This one is in his heart, a deep and emotional pain he hasn’t felt before in his life, ever.

He could’ve prevented this. If only he had told Harry. If only he had listened to Liam. If only.

Liam says something too him, but he doesn’t register it, doesn’t notice Liam leaving. All he knows is that suddenly his face is pressed into Harry’s shoulder, and he starts sobbing. 

The two of them sit like that for a long time, crying and mourning their unborn baby—their stillborn baby. Louis doesn’t understand it, how he can mourn someone he didn’t even know existed, but he does and _fuck_ does it hurt. He was going to have a baby, with Harry, he was going to be a parent—but now it’s gone, all because of a disease that Louis could’ve prevented, had he only told Harry about it. He knows that it’s too late now, that there’s nobody to blame and nothing to be done, but it still hurts.

When Louis stops crying, he feels oddly okay. It’s like Zayn had said all those nights ago: he hadn’t had the time to fall in love with it yet. He knows he’s going to be okay with time, but Harry looks heartbroken.

”We can try again, Haz,” Louis whispers, stroking his thumb over Harry’s tear stained cheek. “We’ll have so many children, you won’t be able to kiss me anymore because we’re so busy.”

Harry smiles and grabs the hand on his cheek, kissing the back of it. “I know. It just... you weren’t awake when we found out,” he says softly. “There was so much blood, I thought I’d lose you right then and there. Then I found out that I had lost a child— _our_ child, and it was so fucked up.” He breathes in shakily, his eyes filling with tears again. Louis has never seen him so broken. “It wasn’t that what made is so difficult, though. It was the idea that I’d lose my first child along with you that broke me.”

He falls silent, and Louis takes that moment to really look at him. His eyes are bloodshot and red rimmed, adorned with dark blue bags under them. His cheeks are hollowed, almost hauntingly so, and his skin is pale. Even his eyes are dull, the emerald green dimmed, like a light that was about to run out of oil. 

It’s a heartbreaking sight, and Louis has difficulty keeping his expression from looking pitiful. He had seen Harry go through a lot, but he had never witnessed a broken man like the one in front of him. It’s a terrifying sight, and Louis sends a prayer to the sky to hope never to see Harry like this again.

”When you passed out...” Harry whispers, his eyes turning distant. “I... I felt something rip in my chest. It was like everything stopped and the only thing that mattered was getting to you as quick as I could. I was terrified. I’ve never felt that scared before, I think.”

”I’m okay now,” Louis whispers back, nudging his nose against Harry’s, making the captain smile. “We’re okay. No need to be scared anymore, I’m not planning on leaving.”

Harry’s face fell again. “You did, though,” he says. “You died three times, your heart just... stopped. The first time, it took so long to get you back, I thought you were gone for good. I didn’t take my eyes off you afterwards, just stared at your chest, waiting for it to stop moving again.”

Louis doesn’t know what to do when tears start escaping Harry’s eyes. “You died, Louis. Three fucking times. We barely managed to dock in time to get you food.”

”Where, um, where are we docked?” Louis asks, desperate to steer away from the most painful thing he has seen on Harry’s face, ever. 

Harry seems to notice his desperation and quickly wipes his tears away. “Gold Coast,” he says, and Louis stills.

”That’s... it’s a British Colony.”

Harry chuckles dryly, like it’s a joke told the wrong way. “Yeah, I know. Didn’t have much of a choice, though, did I?”

Guilt settles in Louis’ chest. “I know,” he whispers. “Just... can’t leave the ship, can I? If someone were to recognise me...”

”Yeah, it’s fucked, I know, darling,” Harry says, and he sighs. “I’ll make it up to you. Buy you anything you want, just say what.”

Louis smiles and shakes his head. “You don’t have to do that.”

Harry kisses his forehead gently and Louis leans into the touch, doesn’t realise how much he’s missed it until he feels it again. “Didn’t I promise to treat you like a royal, love?”

“Oh, yeah, you did,” Louis says, his smile turning into a grin. “You should buy me a crown. One of them big ones, with gemstones and everythin’.”

”Done. Gold or silver?” Harry says jokingly, and Louis laughs, his eyes crinkling. Harry watches him with fond eyes. “Fuck, I’ve missed your laugh.”

Louis’ laugh slowly dies down to a smile that’s almost shy. He had missed Harry’s compliments. He had missed Harry, and tells him as much. “I’ve missed you.”

Harry smiles. “I’ve missed you too. But I really am going to get you a souvenir though, so.”

”How do you know what I like?” Louis teases, pulling Harry’s wrist so that he moves forward and is more hanging over Louis than sitting beside him.

“Well,” Harry says, his free hand landing on Louis’ thigh and gently rubbing it. “The sounds you make give me a pretty good idea.”

Louis kisses Harry quickly. “I love you.”

He has never seen more happiness on Harry’s face, ever. “I love you, more. So much more, it’s fucking unhealthy.”

Louis barks out another laugh and kisses Harry again, and this time, they don’t stop. 

Life isn’t perfect, far from it, but Louis knows they’ll be alright. They’ll make it. 

They always will.


	20. Compass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the sweet comments! They make me cry happy tears (which is a good thing, I swear).

It takes Harry a while before he even allows Louis to walk again. Three days, to be exact. It takes him another four to let Louis out of the cabin, and by the time that happens they’re already sailing the sea again. Louis supposes it’s for the best, as they can’t afford for Louis to be recognised. Harry also insists on feeding Louis the first two days after he’s woken up, and sometimes even force feeds Louis because the latter is full and doesn’t want anymore.

His body has visibly thinned, his ribcage, bones in his hands and wrists scarily visible, the skin pulled over it tightly. He’s lost a lot of weight, and Harry treats him like he’s fragile ceramic because of it. It’s a bit maddening when Louis goes to cuddle into his chest and it takes Harry a full five minutes to hug him back loosely, only tightening his grip when Louis bites his shoulder or tugs his hair in irritation.

When Harry finally allows Louis to eat on his own, he refuses to leave until Louis has eaten every last crumb. It’s tiring, but Louis doesn’t dare say a thing about it, because he can’t even imagine what Harry had gone through the past week, especially with him dying three times.

He still can’t wrap his head around that last part.

When it comes to the loss of their first, at the time unknown baby, Louis doesn’t mourn much. Deep down, he knows it’s morbid that he doesn’t, but he just... he didn’t even know he was pregnant and didn’t until he had already lost the baby. Shit, it wasn’t even a bloody baby yet, it was just blood. A bundle of cells. Not even the size of a rice grain.

Harry had a bit more trouble with it because more often than not, Louis caught him staring at his stomach with a pained look, sometimes longingly. He stops acting like that after a week, however, almost simultaneously when Louis is allowed on open deck again.

The ‘souvenir’ Harry had spoken of turned out to be plural instead of singular: he bought Louis a ton of much better clothes than he now wore, jewellery, expensive quills, and sometimes local food. One present he came home with was a bloody face and a bruised body when he had apparently got into a fight with a British official who had ‘ _tried to arrest me, the fuck was he thinking? Bashed his bloody face in, turns out he had friends_ ’. He had healed overnight, and Louis remembered the ‘special blood’ he had almost forgotten about. It was a bit creepy, in all honesty.

Because Louis couldn’t actually leave the ship, Harry hadn’t bought him a ring yet, as he had insisted that Louis should pick it out (“You’re the one who’s going to be wearing it, love.”). 

A lot of crewmembers visited Louis, like Niall and Zayn and Ed, sometimes even men Louis had never exchanged a word with. They told him about who hadn’t survived scurvy, who had, who hadn’t even gotten it at all... there were a lot of stories. In total, they had lost seventeen crew members, which was quite a lot.

By the time they got back on the sea, however, Harry had already recruited nineteen new crewmembers, some of whom were slaves from British colonies, who had somehow managed to escape.

Another development is that it seems that Harry hates Liam. He ignores him, barks orders and snaps at him whenever they’re in a conversation—which becomes less and less of a situation. It’s obvious that Harry blames Liam for what happened, that Louis was so close to leaving the world for good. It’s unfair, and Louis tries to tell Harry time and time again that it isn’t Liam’s fault and that they should reconcile, but Harry refuses to. He’s as stubborn as Louis, which isn’t always good, especially when it comes to friendships.

Louis doesn’t realise how much he loves the smell of the salty air and the sound of the waves until he’s allowed on the deck again. It hits him hard, how used he is to this life and how it had nearly slipped through his fingers so easily. It almost makes him emotional. Almost. 

It actually scares him a bit when, two days after he’s back on the deck again, he longs for a battle with another ship. When he tells Zayn about it, the latter grins and pulls him under deck to the sleeping quarters, to a rough looking man covered in tattoos and scars. He looked intimidating. As it turned out, he was a tattoo artist.

”When I get that urge,” Zayn explains, nodding to the man who was just finishing up a lion tattoo (A lion? Really?), “I get a tattoo.”

”Does it hurt?” Was Louis first response.

”Like hell,” Zayn answers. “The pain distracts you, though. As does this.”

He holds up a bottle of strong liquor, so strong that Louis can smell it without even having to lean closer. 

“Joey,” Zayn then says and puts a hand on Louis’ shoulder as he turns to the tattooist. “Louis here wants to get a tattoo, mate.”

Which isn’t entirely true, but Louis isn’t going to back out now (His mother didn’t raise a bitch—or, Harry didn’t raise a bitch, he supposes. Harry sort of raised him to be the pirate he now is).

‘Joey’ motions to the crate the other man was sitting on just seconds ago, and Louis sits down as coolly as he can, trying not to look nervous. 

_Not a bitch, not a bitch, not a bitch._

”You got a preference or you want a surprise?” Joey asks, his voice deep and rough like sandpaper. 

Louis thinks for a second, but he already has a fairly good idea of what he wants. “You know the ship tattoo the captain has?” He asks. Joey nods. “I want a compass in the same style.”

Harry doesn’t want to buy him a ring yet, fine, they’ll just have to do with matching tattoos for the time being.

”Where?”

Louis holds out his arm and turns it around so that the inner arm is visible, and points to a spot on the white skin—why do inner arms never tan, anyway?

”Alright,” Joey says, and then nods to the bottle Zayn is holding. “I’d start drinkin’. This ain’t pleasant.”

As it turns out, Joey was right. It hurts like hell. So much, that Louis has to take sips periodically—periodically being each three minutes.

”So, you the captain’s boy, yeah?” Joey asks, making conversation. 

Louis nods. “That’s me.”

”He treatin’ you alright?”

”Yeah.”

Louis looks at Joey and comes to the conclusion that he’s a Beta from the lack of his scent. It’s surprising; he could’ve easily passed as an Alpha from the way he looked. 

It takes about two hours, a lot of alcohol and more blood than Louis expected, but then he’s looking at a compass and he’s pretty much over the moon. Joey had chosen not to give the compass a direction—“Artist’s freedom, lass.”—but Louis can’t complain: if anything, it makes it even better.

As a payment, Louis promises to write a letter for Joey, who, as it turns out, is an amazing drawer, but can’t actually write. It’s not surprising, really: almost none of the men on the ship can write, and some can’t even read.

Twenty minutes later, Louis has written the letter and Joey mutters a “Appreciate it, lass,” before Louis leaves the sleeping quarters, making sure not to trip over or run into any bags on the floor or limbs hanging out of the hammocks.

Once he gets on the main deck, Niall immediately runs over. “Show me, mate,” he says, and Louis feels more than a little proud when he shows his new tattoo and Niall’s mouth drops open.

”Blimey,” he says, and then whistles lowly. “Looks good, mate, properly done.”

”Thanks,” Louis says as Niall looks up again. Zayn approaches and they redo the interaction, Zayn reacting equally excited.

”Joey is a talented bloke,” he says, patting Louis’ back. “Real old salt.”

When Louis frowns in confusion, Zayn quickly adds, “Someone who’s got a lot of experience on the sea, mate.”

Niall laughs at the fact that Louis is still not entirely familiar with the slang used amongst pirates, and earns himself a playful punch in the shoulder. 

“Hey, so, uh,” Zayn then says, sounding nervous. “How are you? You know, with the whole... baby thing.”

The baby thing. It’s apparently the new way to refer to stillbirth. Then Louis remembers that Zayn went through the same thing as him and that shuts him up.

He takes a few seconds before he answers. “Strangely fine,” he says, and both Zayn and Niall nod in acknowledgement, letting him know they’re listening. “I mean, like, it hurts sometimes, but I’m mostly fine. Like you said, I just didn’t have the time to fall in love with it yet.”

He looks at Zayn when he says that last part and Zayn smiles sadly.

“Guess the pirate life toughened you up quick, huh?” Niall interjects, smiling sympathetically.

Louis gives him a small shrug. “I s’pose. Don’t really mind it, though.” 

After a couple of minutes of mindless conversation, they part ways again: Niall to the galley, Louis to the captain’s cabin, and Zayn to Liam, to whom he calls out to with an Arabic nickname (“ _Albi_!”). Louis thinks it’s sweet. He wants a non-English nickname for him and Harry too.

When he gets to the cabin, Harry is behind his desk, his brows furrowed as he reads a newspaper. He’s clearly concentrated, but the moment he sees Louis, he drops the newspaper and moves his chair back far enough for Louis to sit down on his lap—Louis hasn’t even crossed the room yet. It makes his heart grow three sizes to see the way Harry responds to seeing him: he literally drops everything he’s doing, just for Louis. It makes him feel pretty damn special.

He does as Harry expects and sits down on his lap sideways, both his legs on one side and his arm around Harry’s neck. “Where’ve you been, darling?” Harry asks gently, brushing Louis’ hair from his forehead.

”I got my first tattoo, do you want to see?” Louis replies in the same soft tone as Harry. It’s become kind of a habit for them, to talk in gentle tones when they’re alone. Louis can’t say he hates it: quite the contrary, really.

Harry smiles proudly and nods. Louis rolls up his sleeve and shows Harry the compass. Harry carefully runs his fingers over the sensitive skin, his smile only growing. “Did you get it because of me ship?” He asks, and now it’s Louis’ turn to nod. “So, ‘cause I haven’t got you a ring yet, you settle for a matchin’ tattoo for the time being?”

And Louis beams, because of course Harry immediately understands. “Spot on,” he says. Harry kisses his cheek and looks at the tattoo again.

”Pretty permanent, love.”

”’S’the point.”

Harry chuckles. “I get that. It’s just—this ain’t a ring. Rings you can get rid of. This...”

It makes Louis frown. “Does it bother you? Do you not want to marry me?”

Harry shakes his head, still not taking his eyes off the tattoo. “Of course I do, that ain’t a question,” he says, and it makes Louis secretly giddy to know that Harry is so set on marrying him. “Am just afraid you’re going to regret it. Like, one day you’ll wake and go, ‘I don’t love him anymore’, but then you’ll be stuck with this.”

Now he finally looks at Louis, who can barely believe that Harry is even capable of thinking like that. “That’s never going to happen,” he says weakly.

Harry shrugs, putting a hand on Louis’ cheek and rubbing his thumb over his cheekbone. “You’re only nineteen. You can fall in love time and time again. I’m 25, my life ain’t much to fall in love with anymore. This could just be a fancy, love.”

In what universe does Louis ‘fancy’ someone? He might be young, but he's at the age when he knows what he needs, and Harry’s  _it._ Louis’ Omega tells him as much whenever he’s apart from Harry for even longer than a day—what is he saying, a four hour period already gets to him.

And yeah, Harry’s older him, six years older, but Louis honestly doesn’t give a fuck. The world doesn’t give a fuck—his sixteen-year-old sister is forced into a marriage with a 26-year-old guy, it doesn’t make any difference to his father.

Fuck his father, honestly.

“I don’t fancy,” Louis says. “I love. Hard. And I love you. Hard.” He sighs because he’s not making much sense and actually sounds a little childish, which is the whole thing he’s trying to prove to Harry he’s not. “I’m entirely, vehemently and irrevocably in love with you. You’re all I want, yesterday, today and tomorrow, always and forever.”

And Harry kisses him so hard that they almost fall off the chair. “Jesus fuck,” Harry says when he pulls back. “What did I do to deserve you? Maybe God isn’t that bad of a bloke, fuck.”

It’s clear that Louis chose the right words, then. He kisses Harry’s nose and loves the way Harry’s eyes crinkle a bit. “God’s got nothing to do with this.”

”He better not,” Harry murmurs. “Should stay the hell away, you’re mine, he can find his own perfection.”

Jesus fuck indeed.

After a few stunned seconds on Louis’ part, he pulls down his shirt to reveal his unmarked gland. “Mate me.”

Harry’s eyebrows shoot up. “What? Now?”

”Yesterday, preferably.”

Harry chuckles, but it sounds nervous. “But, I mean, are you sure? Aren’t you one of those people to wait with mating for after marriage?”

”I was also one to fuck after marriage, but here we are,” Louis said, and smiles in amusement. “Afraid you’ve corrupted me, Captain.”

Harry smirks and kisses Louis’ neck. “Is that a bad thing?”

”The worst,” Louis breathes out, and goes to say something else, but it gets stuck somewhere in his throat when Harry’s teeth graze over his gland. 

He honestly thinks it’s about to happen right then and there, but then Harry abruptly pulls away. “I’m not doing it. I’m still angry at you.”

”It’s been over a week,” Louis replies after a few moments where he has to get over his whiplash at the sudden change of mood. “You’re still bitter about that?”

”Bitter?” Harry repeats incredulously. “You didn’t tell me you had scurvy, it’s not so much a matter of bitterness as it is of trust.”

Louis wants to say that he’s being melodramatic, but he isn’t, so instead, he just says, weakly, “I didn’t want to worry you.”

”Worry me? You nearly killed me,” Harry says. “You nearly killed yourself.”

“And I’m sorry, I’ve said that already, multiple times,” Louis says, forcing his voice to stay even when he starts sensing an argument. “I’m okay now. Healthy. You should forgive me. You should forgive Liam, too.”

”Fuck Liam,” Harry instantly replies and ignores the look Louis gives him. “He kept it from me, his own captain, his friend, that my Omega was ill and approaching his deathbed.”

Louis realises that there’s no way for him to make Harry see that it’s no use to hold grudges on a ship—you’ll just keep running into the people you have them with.

And then, suddenly, Harry sighs heavily. It’s troubling and pained, and it makes Louis look up. “I’m over it in general,” he mutters. “I just... I’m not over the fact that you didn’t come to me, that you hid something from me. It makes me feel like you don’t trust me enough.”

Which is untrue, it’s so untrue. “No, God, no, I do trust you,” Louis quickly says. “But I was afraid that if I told you, you’d give me extra food, that you’d give me all these additional privileges but not to others who had the same as I did.”

”You were afraid I’d try to help you?” Harry asks, and it’s an unfair question. Louis lets him know as much with a look. 

“Don’t even dare.”

Harry seems to agree that what he said wasn’t entirely fair to the situation, and deflates. “Can you just... can you promise me that you won’t keep anything from me again? Please?”

”I promise,” Louis whispers. “Always.”

Harry smiles, but it’s bittersweet. “Yeah,” he says. “Always.” He's quiet for a few seconds before he speaks up again. This time, he’s a lot more vulnerable. “Can I spend always with you?”

”Always. As long as I get to spend it with you.”

”Always.”

Louis kisses him again, slowly. When he pulls back, he looks Harry straight in his eyes. “You should definitely mate me sometime in the future, though. I was serious about that.”

Harry smiles. “I will. Soon.”

It’s good enough for now.


	21. Past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience with my fic and for all the sweet comments. They truly make my day.
> 
> If you have an idea for the fic just comment it, I love hearing what your ideas and predictions are!

Two weeks passed, and it seemed that Harry was slowly coming around again. He wasn’t as ruthless towards Liam anymore, though nobody dared to leave them alone in the same room together. Louis made sure to talk to Liam often, telling him that Harry was being stubborn, that he was forever grateful for Liam helping him, and that he and Zayn made a good couple. 

In the two weeks that passed, they’d been having a lot of raids, constantly coming across other ships. Harry had explained to Louis that they were passing a lot of Dutch colonies, which was why there were so many ships around: the Dutch were wealthy, and so their colonies promised wealthy lives, which many merchants picked up on. Had Harry’s crew been anybody else’s, they wouldn’t have been very successful in their raids, that much Louis could see. They hadn’t just raided merchants but had gotten into battles with other pirates, and always won. Louis supposed that made sense, as if they’d lost, they’d be dead already. 

Louis had also gotten more tattoos: after an exotic bird had landed on the railing of their ship, he had gotten a tattoo of a bird. During a drunk night, he had gotten a tic-tac-toe tattoo, only for the hell of it. His newest tattoo were the words ‘It Is What It Is’ on his chest, a bitter reminder of the way the world now was: also a bit of an inside joke, because Louis used to think that he couldn’t decide over his own future (it was what it was), but he could, he had chosen this life, as a pirate. A choice he could make a hundred times over.

During a late morning, Louis went to Harry's cabin to get a document on the ships' revenue after their latest raid. Harry had told Louis they were to be docking soon, and that he needed to know how much money there was for them to spend (on a ring, Louis hoped).

Louis was one of the only ones who was allowed into Harry's cabin without Harry's specific permission. When he walked inside, Harry wasn't there, but he wasn't really surprised. Opening up the drawer to Harry's desk, Louis shuffled through many documents that had gathered over the past few weeks. They had been having a lot of raids, which meant that Harry had earned another two rings from the two times they killed the entire crew instead of just taking their belongings.

When Louis' fingers took hold of a pair of documents he thought were the ones he was looking for, he took them out, only to realise they were completely wrong. Not just wrong in the ones he needed, wrong in their meaning and existence.

They were Louis' papers. The papers that declared he was a sex slave. 

Harry hadn't gotten rid of them yet, even though Louis had been convinced he had destroyed them already. If Harry truly loved him as much as he said he did, why did he still have these stupid documents?

After a couple of seconds, Louis sighed and tossed them onto Harry's desk, not bothering to put them away properly. He forced himself to keep a clear mind, telling himself he was overreacting and that Harry probably had a good, logical reason for why the documents still existed. 

He left the cabin again, not appearing able to stay and confront Harry, especially not when things were the best between them, more than it had ever been.

Why did Harry still have those papers? And were they the reason Harry hadn’t proposed to him yet? Were they the reason Harry hadn’t mated him yet?

Did Harry have other plans?

It’s many hours later, when the moon has replaced the sun, that Louis can't physically handle staying away from Harry anymore and returns to the cabin. He opens the door, expecting everything but the thing he sees. 

Harry is standing in front of his desk, holding documents—Louis’ documents—above a candle. The papers caught fire, and he dropped them onto the desk, watching them burn up and turn into nothing but ash.

Louis closed the door and walked over, standing beside Harry and watching the documents burn. Their fingers brush together, innocent and sweet. "I'd forgotten about them," Harry said quietly. "I'm sorry you had to see them."

"It's fine," Louis reassured him. "I had forgotten them too."

"Still," Harry said, leaning his lower back against the desk as the fire burned out. "Couldn't have been nice to see them like that."

Louis smiled, stepping in front of Harry who put his hands on Louis' waist and pulled him closer. Louis responded by putting one hand on Harry's chest and the other on the back of his neck.

He was an idiot. How could he have even thought that Harry didn’t love him and that he had kept the papers for a reason? He needed to trust Harry more, he really did.

"Have you ever thought about it?" Harry suddenly asked, just before Louis went to lean forward to kiss him. "Going back, I mean?"

"To the palace?" Louis asked, and Harry nodded, a type of fear in his eyes that Louis didn't recognise. "I have, actually, yeah. Only in the beginning, though." He saw something shift in Harry's eyes and quickly continued. "But that was because I hated it here. Nobody respected me, you pretty much loathed me and I was treated like a joke, even though I was so used to being treated like royalty. But, now..." he gently pulled on Harry's curls, earning himself a pleased smile. "...now I'm the happiest I've been in my entire life." 

"Really, then?" Harry said, his smile widening and one hand leaving Louis' hip to brush Louis' hair out of his face. 

"Yes," Louis whispered, leaning closer to feel more of Harry's body heat. "Didn't we go over this already?"

"I like hearing you say it," Harry said, and Louis bit his lower lip when Harry's eyes flickered over his face. "God, you're beautiful."

Louis chuckled, leaning his head on Harry's chest. Harry immediately wrapped his arms around him, hugging him close. "You're sweet when we're alone."

"Does that bother you?" Harry asked, stroking the back of his head. 

"No," Louis said, shaking his head as well as he could with it still pressed against Harry's chest. "It makes me feel special. I'm the only one who knows you like this."

There was a beat of silence before Harry gently lifted Louis' face. "I don't know what I did to deserve you," he murmured, studying Louis' face closely. "But I'm fucking happy with whatever I did."

And Louis smiled so brightly his cheeks hurt. He leaned forward and connected his lips with Harry's. Harry took control immediately, kissing him slowly and deeply. He pulled back long enough to murmur "I love you," against Louis' lips before kissing him again, not allowing Louis to reply.

Louis kissed back as well as he could but let himself get handled by Harry who seemed to be in, what Louis called, his 'Alpha mood', where he felt the need to take complete control, like he needed to show Louis and himself who the Alpha of the two was. It was cute, in a way.

After a few minutes, Harry slowed down and pulled back, but now it was Louis who wanted to continue and pressed his lips to Harry's neck, making the captain chuckle. "Louis, really?" he said, making Louis pull back with a frown. 

"What?" he said. "You can do it to me but I can't do it to you?"

Harry ran his fingers over Louis' cheek. "Never said that darling," he said. "Just... I'm too tired for it tonight."

But Louis wasn't, and that was a problem. "Fine," he said. Then he dropped onto his knees and unbuckled Harry's belt (he had found it on another ship five days ago and was now a prized possession). 

"Louis, what are you—" Harry started, but abruptly shut up with a strangled moan when Louis got his mouth on him, gripping the edge of the desk to keep himself upright. "Alright, I reckon I'm not too tired for this."

He came within ten minutes, which was a new record on Louis' part.

༻♛༺ 

Harry was beautiful.

It was a simple thing Louis had settled on from pretty much the day he met the captain. But there was something so different about his beauty when he was asleep: it was something else entirely.

He didn't have the frown that he almost always wore, his eyes weren't narrowed and his jaw wasn't set: everything, from his lips to his brows, was completely relaxed. It made Harry look younger, far younger than the 25 summers he actually held. Harry was so gorgeous, it hurt Louis' heart sometimes.

They were completely entangled on the bed, making Louis wonder how it was even possible for them to always end up in these positions, with their limbs entangled and hair in each other's faces and at least one person with a pulled muscle. It was like, even in their sleep, their bodies still ached to touch, to have each body part touch the other person.

They were a mess, but God did they wear it well.

After some shuffling around, Louis ended up in a more comfortable position, with his leg swung over Harry's waist and his arm over Harry's chest, carefully holding onto the side of his neck. He lifted his hand to brush some of Harry's long curls out of his face before putting his hand back on the side of his neck.

Harry's eyes opened slowly then, heavy-lidded with sleep. "What time's it?" he groggily asked, his voice still rough with sleep.

"Don't know," Louis replied. "Still early, though. Haven't heard the crew yet."

"Hm," Harry hummed, wrapping an arm around Louis as he turned onto his side, pulling him into his chest. "'m tired."

"Then sleep," Louis said, aware that he himself couldn't fall asleep anymore. He was wide awake now, had been for at least half an hour already. Harry mumbled something that Louis couldn't understand. "What was that?"

"Want to talk with you," Harry repeated. He was silent for so long, Louis thought he had fallen asleep again, but then he spoke up. "Have I ever told you 'bout my mother?"

Louis shook his head, even though they both knew the answer to that question already.

"She was kind. Sweet. Like you," Harry said, gradually sounding more awake. "Married a man so far from that, a selfish bastard who didn't deserve her." There was something hidden in his words and Louis couldn't help but think that he was comparing their relationship to that of his parents'. "They were betas. My sister turned out to be a beta too. Me dad assumed I was going to be one, and then I turned out to be an Alpha." 

He chuckled humourlessly. "Suddenly he wasn't the strongest in the house anymore, and he couldn't take that. Started beating me mum and me sister," Harry said, and Louis had trouble with not tensing up. "It got me angry, and I got him to leave after a lot of fighting." He hesitated for a moment. "Left for about a day to take care of some stuff. Biggest mistake of my life, 'cause when I got back he had killed them."

Louis inhaled sharply. "Jesus," he mumbled, attempting to look up, but Harry kept his tight grip, clearly not wanting Louis to see his face. "I'm so sorry, Haz."

"I’m not innocent, though," Harry said quietly. "I was so angry at him, I couldn't even see straight anymore. Murdered him on the spot." His voice got thicker, sometimes breaking. "Friend of my mother walked in, saw the bodies and just assumed. Ran outside screaming I killed them. I was a kid and on the run from an entire village who wanted justice for something I didn't even do."

A silence.

"Hid for a while until I came across a ship. Joined the crew, and I haven't been back since."

Louis swallowed thickly. "Barends, he said that... that you killed the entire village."

"That wasn't me," Harry said, his hand suddenly moving up and down Louis' back, stroking the bare skin. "An epidemic. But the king wanted me dead, so he told everyone I did it to get the people to despise me."

Louis remembered that day when he heard his father tell his mother that 'a deranged young man' had 'killed off an entire village'. He was too young to ask about it, only ten, and had eventually forgotten about it.

Perhaps he should've known that it had been about Harry.

Louis wiggled himself out of Harry's grip so that he could look him in his eyes. "Why are you telling me this now?"

Harry's eyes flickered over Louis' face, his pupils expanding again, and that made Louis unbelievably happy despite their current conversation. "Because I told I loved you when you didn't even know who I was. Because I nearly lost you without showing you who I really am. Because we talk about mating and marriage when I haven’t even talked about my past yet. You didn’t know who I was, yet I was claiming you as my Omega."

"I do know who you are," Louis said, his fingers trailing an indecisive pattern over Harry's shoulder. "It's not your past that defines you. If anything, you did the right thing, killing the man that hurt your family."

"He was my family," Harry said. "He was my father, no matter what kind of a man he became. The first man I killed, and it was my father. That’s not right."

Louis breathed in and out for a moment. "How old were you?" he then softly asked, hoping that Harry wasn't very young when he had made his first kill. 

"Sixteen," Harry answered. It was young, very young. Most men joined the army when they were eighteen, some seventeen. Sixteen was still considered as the age of a kid, which was why they were often treated as laughingstocks when they joined armies or trained to become knights.

As if you were less of a man.

"You were young," Louis whispered.

"Are you scared?"

"No," Louis answered, and it was the truth. He wasn't scared of the man lying in front of him, and he didn't think he could ever be. "I love you, I'll never be able to fear you."

Harry smiled, kissing Louis' forehead. "I don't think I'll ever get enough of hearing you say those words."

And Louis only smiled, because there was simply nothing else left for him to say. He knew who Harry was now, his past, his mistakes and most of the decisions that led him to this life. Louis could fill in most of the blanks himself about how Harry eventually got to live this life and how he became the man he now was. He must’ve left that first crew quickly, as Alice had said she had met Harry when he was only sixteen and he was trying to round up his own crew. Louis could only imagine a young Harry getting a taste of the pirate life and realising that he found where he belonged and that he wanted to be a captain, ruling a loyal crew of men and dominating the seas. Perhaps he hadn’t envisioned himself being the most feared captain of the seas, but then again: Louis had never envisioned himself anywhere else but the throne room at the palace, and yet here he was, in the arms of the most feared pirate in the world.

Feared or not, Louis loved him.

He was proud of the man Harry now was. It’s a simple thought, one that couldn’t have been more truthful had Louis tried. 


	22. Rings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ew I hate this chapter it feels so rushed but that's because I completely forgot to update, 'cause school's started again for me and I kind of want to cry, and I had this festival and a bunch of parties and ughhhhh I'm so sorry for not updating

"Fucking hell."

Louis couldn't help but let a couple of curses escape after kicking an enemy over the edge of the ship. Fighting still demanded a lot of strength and energy, something that Louis was pretty sure he'd never be able to get used to. Not that he hadn't gotten stronger over the past few months, that wasn't it at all. He was actually getting some biceps, something that he was secretly quite proud of and something that he _knew_ Harry knew he was proud of. Nothing wrong in taking pride in your muscles, right?

After three forceful, precise swings of his cutlass, he stabbed his opponent in the stomach. When the man dropped to his knees Louis cut his throat in a quick motion and wasn't bothered by the choking sounds he heard or the blood that splattered on his shoes. He hadn't been bothered by killing for a long time, which should be a bit worrying, had he still been a prince. Now it was just a normal thing, almost a regular occurrence.

A quick glance to the other side of the ship showed him Harry, who was winning fight after fight with a remarkable amount of grace, but that was something that stopped surprising Louis a long time ago. 

Most of the enemy's crew was already dead, bodies floating in the sea or spread out on the deck. They had yet to spot the captain, who was most likely hiding in his cabin for whatever cowardly reason. Louis wondered why someone would want to follow a captain who didn't even fight his own battles.

He didn't have to wonder long, however. The door to a cabin opened and a man who was clearly the captain walked out, the fear evident in his expression, face pale and mouth stretched into a tight-lipped line. 

Louis had never killed a captain before. He had seen Harry do it because captains always fought each other, yet Harry was on the other side of the ship and the enemy's captain was right there, practically trembling with fear. The captain's eyes fell on Louis and narrowed a little, the fear vanished in an instant and replaced by repugnance.

It was immediately clear to Louis that the fear he had seen was only for Harry, and not for the crew that was taking over the ship. It was also clear to him that the captain had something against male Omegas if the way he approached Louis was anything to go by.

He lifts his cutlass and brings it down in a powerful swing that Louis just barely manages to block. The man had a lot of physical strength, that much was obvious. Then again, Louis had a lot of wits and wasn't about to lose a fight now that he has won so many. 

After a couple of blows that were mostly from the captain, Louis realises that he could easily win the fight. The man was brude and almost clumsy in his way of fighting, uncoordinated and sloppy. Louis could end the fight right now if he wanted to, but in a way, he's enjoying playing with the Alpha, so steps on the man's foot hard enough for him to exclaim in pain and for Louis to cut his leg. He wasn't sure whether he should kill the captain, whether he was even _allowed_ to do so. He keeps it at a few cuts and makes sure not to actually inflict too much damage to kill the captain, who still was sluggish and brute in his fighting, making it easy for Louis to jump around and deflect any attacks.

"Stop playing around with him and finish it, Louis," a voice suddenly says, and Louis doesn't even pause to see that it's Harry. He does become aware that there's a small crowd around them, watching with amused faces.

He just grins broadly. "I like playing with 'im," he says, and the captain looks outraged.

"Like a bitch like you would win," he says, but Louis isn't even insulted and just grins wider, although he's aware that Harry is a lot more bothered by the insult.

"Want to bet your life on it?" Louis says and jabs his cutlass forward, inflicting a cut in the captain's expensive-looking coat.

Their battle turns into a bit of a dance on Louis' part, who twists and turns and humiliates his enemy with his jabs and kicks, emitting laughter from the crew around them. Eventually, the captain started throwing around insults that even Louis ought too much, and it urged him to finish the battle. He ended the man's life by pushing his blade through his back so that it cut through his heart and the tip of the blade poked out of his chest. By the time the captain's body thudded on the deck he was already dead, blood pooling around him while the crew cheered for Louis, clapping his back and ruffling his hair. 

Harry steps over the body, lifting its hand and taking off the only ring on the hand. There's a look of pride in his eyes as he turns to Louis and held out the ring, which was gold with a big amethyst in the middle, shaped to an oval. "Captain's honours," Louis says questioningly to Harry, who nods as the crew starts to disperse.

"It's yours now," he says. "If you want."

After a moment, Louis takes the ring and slips it on his middle finger of his right hand. It was a bit too big and heavy, and felt oddly powerful considering it was only a ring, but Louis supposed that that was probably because it was a dead man's ring. 

"It suits you."

Louis looks up at Harry and gives him a grin. "Feel free to admire me."

Harry shakes his head fondly. "When do I not?" he asks, which speeds Louis' heart up.  _Oh_.

He glances down at the ring again. "It's not really the type of ring I wanted, though," he says, knowing that Harry was going to catch up on the not-so-subtle hint he just dropped. 

"You'll get one," Harry says, stepping closer and brushing some hair from Louis' forehead. "We'll get one. Soon."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

༻♛༺ 

Louis finally got a ring in Portugal. They were docked there and were only a three-week sail away, maybe three and a half, from reaching France.

Because of Captain’s Honours, he and Harry had to get married in a different way:  _matelotage,_ it was called. It was marriage, real marriage, just without the church. They would exchange rings and pledge eternal union. There was no contract to sign like Louis had expected, no God required. It was rings and a pledge, and then they were married.

So here Louis was, with Harry, picking out rings in a shady shop in the slums. Maybe not how he had imagined it, but it was happening so he was going to suck it up and enjoy this.

”Just say when you see one you like,” Harry whispers in his ear, and Louis nods. He’s glad Harry is letting him pick, mostly because Louis was stupidly stubborn and wanted everything to be perfect. It's not that Harry is incapable of choosing good rings, but it's more because 

And perfect he found. 

There were two rings, golden bands, one with a dark green gem in it and one with a dark blue gem. Inside the bands, the words ‘My Only, The One’ were engraved in a delicate, italic font. 

“Those ones,” he whispers to Harry, who looks at the rings and smiles. 

“‘Cause of our eye colour?” He asks, and when Louis nods, he looks up at the man who‘s patiently waiting and points at the rings. “ _Aqueles dois anéis, por favor._ _”_

The man nods, and once again, Louis is baffled by Harry’s ability with languages. He seems to speak a little of everything: then again, Harry had been travelling the world for nearly ten years now, which meant that he must’ve picked _something_ up along the way. It doesn't make it less impressive, however. Languages aren't easy to learn.

After Harry pays a significant price for the rings, they return to the ship. The whole way there, Louis is buzzing with excitement because it’s finally, _finally_ happening. After weeks—no, _months_ of waiting and hearing Harry promise time and time again, they’re actually getting married. Well, _matelotage_ , but still. Married. Louis was going to have a husband. A husband that he loved and that loved him in return. It was actually happening.

Once they’re on the ship they go straight to the cabin, and as soon as the door closes they’re all over each other, kissing feverishly. Smiles eventually break up the kissing, so they end up just grinning against each other’s lips.

”Propose to me,” Louis mumbles, and Harry promptly drags him to the bed and sits him down on the edge. 

“Don’t laugh,” he says, but if Louis had even thought of doing that, all ideas of giggles disappear when Harry actually gets on one knee. It’s different, knowing you’re going to get married in a few hours and then actually having someone in front of you, on their knee, proposing to you.

“Louis William Tomlinson. From the moment I saw you I knew I wanted you in my life, no matter friend or lover. When you agreed to be mine my world was bright in a way I had never witnessed before,” Harry says, and Louis actually feels himself tear up. “You make me feel happy, make me feel hopeful, sometimes really frustrated and so, so loved. You don’t bring out the best in me, you bring out everything in me, parts I never knew I had. A million times, in a million lives, in a million universes…my heart will always belong to you.It’s why I am on one knee, today, in front of you, to ask you to make the luckiest man in the world and marry me?”

Louis smiles and snivels. “Yes. Of course,” he says and launches himself into Harry’s embrace. They only have marriage rings, no engagement ones, so they can’t put one on Louis’ finger, but it’s fine.

It’s more than fine. 

After dinner, Zayn is called into the cabin to ‘officiate’ the ‘wedding’. Louis wants Niall there as his witness, and, much to everyone’s surprise, Harry chooses Liam. 

Louis discreetly squeezes Harry’s hand when he knows no one is looking, letting Harry know he's proud of him.

“So, just,” Zayn looks at the two of them, sitting on the other side of the table. It’s all highly unorthodox, but it’ll do. “Just repeat what I say. To each other.”

Harry and Louis nod. “We know, Zayn,” Harry says, shuffling a little on his seat. “Get on with it.”

”Okay. Uh. Right, got it: I, Harry Edward Styles, take you, Louis William Tomlinson, to be my...”

“...husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better and for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part, according to God’s holy law; and this is my solemn vow.”

And when they have both finished, Harry grabs the rings and gives the blue one to Louis, offering each other excited smiles.

”Harry, do you take Louis as your lawfully wedded husband?”

”I do,” Harry says and puts the ring with the green gem on Louis’ finger.

”Louis, do you take Harry as your lawfully wedded husband?”

”I do,” Louis says, and puts the blue gem decorated ring on Harry’s finger, unable to keep a smile from his face.

Zayn grins and claps his hands together. “Then congrats. You’re now married,” he says, and Louis is a little confused because he’s pretty sure it doesn’t end like that, but then he remembers that they’re pirates and that there is nothing holy about their marriage. “Now kiss and make it official.”

So they do, and it’s not a great kiss because they’re both grinning, but it’s still perfect.

They’re married, of course, it’s perfect.

༻♛༺ 

It's somewhere around midnight, the moon weakly shining through the window and giving the dark cabin a bleak, white glow. Louis is in Harry's lap, chest to chest, the both of them completely naked and kissing passionately. Louis has one hand in Harry's curls and the other behind Harry's neck. Harry has one hand around his shoulders and the other around his lower back so that he's, in a way, hugging Louis. They've been kissing endlessly for hours now, making love over and over again because, in a way, it's just never enough. They can't stop kissing and touching each other, as if they'd be unable to breathe if they stopped. It's almost on the tipping point of desperation.

"Lou," Harry suddenly mumbles against Louis' lips, although he doesn't actually pull away, which shows that he's not too keen on the idea of disconnecting their lips. 

Eventually, it's Louis who pulls back a little, leaning his forehead against Harry's. "What?" He asks breathlessly.

As his response, Harry trails his fingers over Louis' gland. "I..." he says, hesitating. "Would you reckon this is the right time?"

And of course, Louis nods the moment he understands what Harry is referring to. He wants to bond with Louis. "Obviously," he whispers, causing Harry to smile.

"You know how it works, yeah?" He asks, his eyes glimmering. "I bite you, then you bite me."

Louis nods again. Of course, he knows how it works and what it means. It's a bond for life, more powerful than marriage or  _matelotage._ And Louis wants that with Harry. It's a strong want and not something that's very lighthearted either. Once they're bonded, there's no going back. They'll be bonded for life, no way out: as if Louis would ever want a way out.

He leans his head to the side and closes his eyes. After a couple of seconds, he feels Harry's lips on his neck, which then go lower and lower until they're on his gland. Louis whimpers softly, anticipation building in his tense body. Teeth lightly graze over his skin. And then there's just a lot of pain. It genuinely hurts, and in absolute intuition, without even thinking about it, Louis bites Harry's gland.

The feeling that follows is astronomical. It's intense pleasure, so much so that Louis gets hard and comes again within seconds, Harry's response an exact replica. Louis digs his nails into Harry's back, heaving gasps escaping his mouth, identical ones escaping Harry's as something with similar strength to the ship's cannons go off in his head. The high goes on for a long time. It's an indescribable heat that never lessens, a connection so strong that it feels like Louis' heart is being pulled by a string. He can feel what Harry feels, which is the exact same Louis is feeling, making it double as intense. It's love and lust and want and it goes on infinitely. Louis almost feels like he's going to pass out, it's so intense.

And it takes him a few seconds, but then Louis realises that he's bonded to Harry forever.

༻♛༺ 

It takes a lot of getting used to. The first few days, Harry and Louis can hardly bear to be apart, a constant need to touch between the two of them. It's as if they're physically attached to one another, unable to part ways as though they might die if they did. Liam had to actually keep an eye on them for a couple of days in case their health would suffer, but that thankfully didn't happen. The wounds turn into light scars, a reminder about their new infinite, and something for everyone to take note of.

Their scents have mingled too so that they're now sharing a similar scent, Louis' just a hint sweeter than Harry's. Cinnamon and cloves create for a more spicy scent between them, Louis' with a hint of sugar (which Harry had pointed out). It suits their relationship well, as their relationship fits the description 'spicy' quite well, in both an erotic and threatening way.

Something that Louis notices almost immediately afterwards is that he can sense what Harry is feeling. If Harry is angry, Louis somehow senses it, and it's the same with the other emotions, that odd ability to sense everything. He knows Harry can sense his feelings too, that it's a mutual thing. But it doesn't just stay at emotions: they can sense it when the other is hungry, or tired, or is experiencing some sort of physical pain. It's not like they feel the exact same thing, or even feel something similar, but it's a sense, like when you somehow just know it when someone's staring at you. It's an indescribable feeling, but it's constant.

When Harry got hurt during a raid, Louis hadn't seen it; he hadn't even been nearby, under the deck when Harry was on top, but somehow, he had known. He just knew that Harry had gotten hurt and had nearly hurt himself too when he went to find Harry the moment he sensed it. When Louis hadn't eaten all day, Harry had somehow known too. He had brought Louis food when the latter was stitching up Harry's shirt. 

After three weeks, they had gotten used to it. But it still made Louis wonder: could Harry sense he was pregnant?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very fluffy, right? 
> 
> Well... the next few chapters are going to angsty as fuck, so be prepared.


	23. Separated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating in so long. I've had a couple of personal struggles that made it very difficult to even think about writing, something that I love doing the most, so I hope you can imagine that it was even more difficult for me to do anything else.
> 
> Again, I'm very sorry. I hope this can make up for it, if only for a little.

There weren't a lot of things in Louis' life that he was sure about. There were small certainties, like how he'd never be able to return to his family, that Harry was the one, that sailing was what he was made to do, and that he was pregnant.

There was not a single doubt about these things. Admittedly, the last one had only been a certainty for the last four weeks, but it was a certainty nonetheless. It started when Louis had been experiencing nausea and eventually started throwing up in the morning. Add to that the fatigue and moodiness, and it had been more than obvious that Louis was more than just a little ill.

It wasn't just the symptoms, however. Louis, somehow, just knew. He knew he was pregnant.

He hadn't actually told Harry about it yet. In fact, he hadn't told anyone about it. It wasn't a matter of trust, it was just a matter of personal pleasure. Louis basked in it, the fact that he was pregnant, that there was a baby growing inside in his stomach; he was carrying Harry's baby, his son or daughter.

Secretly, Louis hoped for a son. A son could take over the ship one day, become the next Captain of the Cursed Odyssey. A son was allowed on the seas. A daughter, however, was a different story entirely. Women weren't allowed to sail the seas, at least not with pirates, which would mean that either she was to be left at a house or an orphanage, or for Louis to leave the crew; leave Harry. But Louis knew that he'd never leave his child, not even for the person he knew had to be his soulmate.

But he'd also never ask Harry to come with him if he were to leave. He'd never ask Harry to abandon his crew, his life, everything he had fought for. The Cursed Odyssey and her crew were Harry's pride and his life, and Louis could never ask him to abandon that.

Despite his hoping, something inside of Louis knew it wasn't going to be a boy. He couldn't place his finger on it, but somehow, he knew it was going to be a daughter.

Perhaps it was that feeling that prevented him from telling anybody. It was terrifying, the thought of having to leave the life he loved so dearly, the man he loved so dearly and the men he considered family. He didn't want to lose that, he didn't want to gain a child and lose everyone he loved in the process.

Part of him knew he was being selfish. The happiness of being with child, Harry deserved that happiness too. The thought of having a baby, the pure joy Louis felt, Harry deserved that just as much as Louis did.

Now wasn't the time to tell Harry, however, because Harry was focused on other things. As soon as they'd be sailing again and it would a slow day, Louis would tell him, but for now, he kept silent, simply because he knew that as soon as he'd tell Harry, the captain would drop everything else in an instant to focus on Louis and their baby, to keep them both safe. That would turn into his number one priority, and Louis couldn't have him focused on that.

Instead, he had to stay focused on whatever secret business he was taking care of. He didn't tell Louis much about it, simply telling him that it was something from his past and that Louis shouldn't be worried about it. He clearly didn't want to tell Louis, at least not yet, so Louis didn't push him and kept to himself, waiting for Harry to decide for the right time to tell him. They had time.

For the time being, they were docked in Nantes, a port city on the Atlantic coast of France. It was only a week's sail away from England, and to Louis, it felt odd. To know that his family was so close, yet so far away still, was an indescribable feeling. More often than not did he find himself staring into the direction of England, wondering about his family, about his sisters and his mother. He knew that Harry was aware of it, of his longing, and sometimes, would silently kiss his forehead, squeeze his hand and grant him a moment alone.

They had been docked in Nantes for the last week and a half, and with every day that passed, Louis would get more and more restless. Not because of the thought of his family, but because of the fact that Nantes was one of the biggest ports in France, which meant that with each day that passed, the chances of them running into the English Navy were growing and growing. It was only a matter of time that the Navy would dock there as well, and all that it would take was for one of the men to recognise Louis, and everything would end in an instant.

If Louis would be recognised, the news would get out that the Crown Prince of England was alive and well, and a pirate. His father would either be dethroned, or he would be able to come up with a good story in time to keep his title, something about Louis being a runaway, that he fell in love with the most dangerous pirate in the world and chose to become a pirate over his own family.

Something like that. Either way, the life Louis loved would be destroyed within an instant. He couldn't allow that to happen.

So, every day, after supper, when he and Harry would be in the cabin, Louis would ask whether Harry was finally done with whatever business he was taking care off.

Tonight was no different. Harry was sat behind his desk, reading a newspaper Louis had bought for him while he was gone. Louis was watching him from where he was sat at the table, absentmindedly rubbing his hand over his stomach as he silently worried about their safety.

He could tell that Harry wasn't focused on what he was reading. The captain wasn't a fast reader, nor were any of his men, but Louis knew that it had nearly been half an hour and Harry had only flipped the page once.

After allowing Harry one more moment of peace, Louis stood up and walked over to his husband, hugging him from behind and resting his chin on Harry's shoulder. Harry instinctively reached up and held one of Louis' hands, linking their fingers together while he was focused on whatever article he was reading.

"Are you okay?" Louis asked softly, twisting his head just a little so that he could admire Harry's profile.

"'M'fine, darling," Harry said. "Just a bit tired, 's'all."

Louis knew he wasn't lying; at least, not entirely. He could sense Harry's fatigue, just like he could sense his stress and undefinable worry for something.

"How much longer?" he asked, referring to both their docking and Harry's silence on his personal matters.

"Few more days," Harry said, squeezing Louis' hand. "Patience, yeah?"

Louis nodded obediently, pressing a kiss to Harry's jaw afterwards. There was something so incredibly off, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He knew he had to trust Harry to eventually come clean about it, but there was simply something inside of Louis that was trying to warn him for whatever was in the shadows.

"I love you," he whispered, kissing Harry's jaw again. "A lot."

After a small moment, Harry let go of the newspaper and spun around so that he could face Louis, who straightened up to give Harry some space to move. He put his hands on Louis' waist, staring up at him with a soft expression that Louis knew was only for him. "I love you more," Harry murmured. "So much more."

Louis smiled, his cheeks tinting a light pink. Harry sounded so convinced of it, it was almost heart-wrenching. "Do you, then?" he said, running his hand through Harry's long curls. "Sound pretty confident of yourself."

"'Cause I know it's the truth," Harry said. He started rubbing his hands up and down Louis' sides, his gaze wandering over Louis' body. For a moment, they paused on Louis' stomach, and Louis' heartbeat picked up a bit. He immediately wondered if Harry knew, if he could sense it. But then his eyes returned to Louis' face and the flicker in them, that flicker of _something_ , was gone. "Remember when we first met? When you told me you were just Louis?"

"Of course," Louis said, climbing on top of Harry's lap with his legs on one side. He leaned his forehead against Harry's, nudging their noses together. "Feels like a lifetime ago."

Harry smiled tenderly. "Look how far we've come."

Louis held up his hand, studying the ring on his ring finger. "Look how far," he quietly said, part of him back at the concern he felt whenever he thought of Harry.

"Stop worrying, love," the captain said, putting a hand on Louis' cheek to get him to look up again. "I can feel you're constantly worried. There's nothing to be worried about."

"I'm married to the most hunted man in the world," Louis reprimanded, cocking an eyebrow. "I have everything to be worried about."

Harry smiled cheekily, mischief flickering in his eyes. "Suppose everyone just wants me. Don't blame them, though, have you seen me?"

Louis chuckled and shook his head. "You're lucky arrogance suits you," he said, pressing a kiss to Harry's nose without really thinking about it.

"It's what made you fall for me, innit?" Harry quipped, his smile only growing when Louis rolled his eyes. They both knew that arrogance had not been the reason for that.

After looking at Harry for a few moments, Louis sighed and absentmindedly started playing with the curls on the back of Harry's head. "Will you be gone early tomorrow again?" he asked, hoping that Harry would say no and that they could have a morning together for once. He was quite sick of waking up alone every morning.

"Afraid so, love," Harry said, his eyes apologetic. "Won't be for much longer, though, promise."

Louis looked into Harry's eyes, trying to find anything to explain everything, but couldn't find it. So he put on a small smile and said, "Okay."

And just hoped that God was merciful.

༻♛༺

The next morning, Harry had kept to his word, because Louis woke up alone yet again. At least it meant he could throw up without having his husband witness it, but it still didn't feel right to not have him around when the sun was only barely awake as well. It was only when he was getting dressed that he noticed Harry's pocket watch on the table. Harry always took it with him lately to make sure he'd be back on time.

A moment of doubt had Louis wondering if he should follow Harry and give him the pocket watch, or if he should stay on the ship and not put himself at risk. Still, his curiosity was through the roof: he wanted to know what Harry was up to, because clearly, it wasn't anything good. The watch gave him a good excuse.

So, after making sure none of the crew saw him, Louis left the ship with the watch clutched in his hand. He had no idea where Harry actually was, so it was going to take him a lot of searching.

The bond, however, made it a lot easier. He blindly trusted the intuition it granted him, feeling as if someone was leading him to Harry. He hardly paused to wonder if he was going the right way or if it still was a good idea. It wasn't a good idea, probably, but when had that ever stopped Louis?

It was after twenty minutes that Louis spotted Harry. The captain was walking in a busy street, moving swiftly and easily through the crowd that seemed to part for him. It was obvious that his reputation was well known among the citizens of the port city. Louis did his best to follow him, keeping his distance and making sure he didn't look too suspicious.

Harry suddenly took a turn into an alleyway, momentarily disappearing from Louis' view. He didn't immediately follow Harry into the narrow street, aware that there were barely people there and that Harry only had to glance over his shoulder to spot Louis.

Louis was especially glad he hadn't entered the alley when he saw Harry pause in front of a door and look around before he entered. He looked unusually tense. His wits told Louis to turn around and leave, but his curiosity and indisputable stubbornness still had the upper hand, urging him to inspect whatever building Harry had entered.

He crouched under one of the windows, glancing inside to find Harry in the middle of a room, speaking to a woman that Louis instantly recognised. "Alice?" He whispered to himself, wondering how it was even possible that she was here. It had to be her magic, there was no other explanation for it.

At least Harry was with someone he could trust, right?

A rather irritating part was that they were speaking in French and that Louis only knew a little. There was something about safety, and they were clearly getting angrier by the second. Louis' heart stuttered when Alice mentioned his name, immediately sensing Harry's distrust.

" _Pourquoi?_ " Harry asked, his voice wary and dark.

" _Sans raison particulière_ ," Alice said, glancing at her nails. " _Je n'avais pas de nouvelles_."

Harry suddenly continued in English, making Louis wonder what exactly was happening. "What's going on, Alice? What are you doing here?" He asked, but Alice didn't reply. "Alice. Explain."

Alice sighed heavily, clearly bothered by something. "I'm sorry, Harry. I truly am," she whispered, and Louis had half a mind to run inside and drag Harry out of the room.

"What did you do, Alice?" Harry asked, but before anything else could be said, the doors in the room suddenly slammed open, and multiple men dressed in Navy uniforms ran out, tackling Harry before he had the chance to defend himself.

Louis felt his blood stop in his veins, his mouth opening to scream. Before he could even get a sound out, a hand suddenly clasped over his mouth and he was pulled away from the window, his screams for Harry muffled and barely audible. He struggled to get out of his captor's arms, kicking and hitting blindly as he was pulled into a nook that hid him from anyone's eyes.

"Louis, calm down, it's me," the captor said, and when Louis recognised it as Liam, he stopped struggling, not even questioning how Liam had known where he was. He had probably spotted Louis leaving the ship and had followed him, just in case.

In horror, Louis watched how Harry was dragged out of the door, his face bloody and beaten. Tears escaped his eyes as he saw Harry completely defenceless, receiving merciless blows to the face and stomach as if he was nothing but an animal.

Louis started struggling again, screaming against the hand over his mouth to try and attract the Navy's attention, anything to try and free Harry, but Liam didn't budge. "I'm sorry, Louis," he said, his voice weak and distressed. "There's nothing we can do, not right now. We don't stand a chance. I'm sorry."

For a split second, Harry glanced over to where Liam and Louis were hidden, and despite being incapable of speaking, Louis knew that Harry knew they were there; or, at least, knew that Louis was there. It was a flash in his eyes and the feeling that Louis sensed, the feeling of regret and emotional pain, that let Louis knew that Harry had seen him.

And all he could do was watch as the Navy dragged him away, away from Louis, away from his ship and away from Alice, who now stepped out of the building as well and followed the group, her expression unreadable.

She had betrayed Harry. Harry, who trusted her, who considered her his friend.

And who was to be hanged in front of England's King if Louis didn't do something quickly.

༻♛༺

"How long is it from here to England?" Louis asked Zayn, who was across from him at the table. The two of them, accompanied by Liam, Ed and Niall, were stood around the table in Harry's cabin, trying to devise a plan to save their Captain - and in Louis' case, his husband.

"About a week, week and a half," Zayn said, pointing to the map and trailing out an invisible line for their ship to sail on. "If we follow this, we might be there before the Navy scum is back. We might even catch up if we're lucky. Navy carries a lot of shit on their ships, makes 'em heavy and much slower."

Louis nodded, looking up at Liam. "How many of our men are capable of fighting?"

"All of them," Liam immediately said, nodding to himself. "Most of them are capable of winning. Against the Navy, though, I don't know."

"We're not fighting the Navy," Louis said, but didn't explain it as he continued his questioning. "Say we make it to England after them. It would take the King a couple of days before he could hang the captain, he'll want to drag his misery out. Think he'll do it publicly?"

"Maybe," Ed said, furrowing his brows together when Louis didn't refer to the King as his own father. Little did Ed know that Louis had decided long ago he didn't have a father anymore. "He might want to show everyone he caught the world's most feared pirate. But he also knows we're coming to free him, he wouldn't want to put himself at risk in an open, public place."

"My money's on private," Niall said, who was only really there to provide Louis' some support as his best friend. With a speciality in cooking, he didn't have a lot to bring to the table (except food, probably).

Louis narrowed his eyes and nodded slowly. "They'll do it in the back gardens," he said, envisioning the gardens he used to walk through almost every morning. "In the back. Gives 'em enough privacy to do what they need to do."

"How would we get in, though?" Zayn asked. "We don't look the part of royalty, do we?"

"I think you forget," Louis said, smirking a little. "I'm the Crown Prince. I can march in there and there ain't nobody to stop me."

There was a small silence in which they were all thinking of a good plan. It was Liam who eventually spoke up. "Louis, you said we're not fighting the Navy," he said, and Louis nodded, still staring at the map in front of him. "Then what exactly are we doing?"

Louis lifted his head, glancing around the men with him. They were all loyal. They would follow him to the grave, they would destroy a country to save their captain. He narrowed his eyes a little and exhaled deeply, absentmindedly placing a hand on his stomach as he wondered about Harry's wellbeing.

"We're going to kill the King."


	24. Revenge.

Despite being about to return to the palace he grew up in, Louis wasn't nervous. Nor was he scared.

What he was, however, was angry. In fact, he was furious. The time that it took to sail to England was filled with the thought of revenge and nothing but revenge. It wasn't like the crew was anything different: every single hand on the ship was filled with rage and was ready to attack. Their captain had been taken, and nobody was involved with the captivity was going to be left unharmed.

Well, almost nobody.

"We are to reach England in less than an hour," Louis told the crew in front of him. They were all out on deck, their gazes on Louis who was on a higher part of the deck so that they could all see them. It felt wrong; it was Harry's spot, the Captain's. Louis was a Quarter Master, not a Captain. "I'm sure you're all ready, filled with anger and a longing for revenge."

There were a couple of cheers.

"That's good. I am too. But I need to remind you that we're going to attack my family, my old home," Louis continued, and it was suddenly a lot quieter. "If you run into my sisters, the princesses, or my mother, the Queen, you keep walking. If anything, you lock them in a room for their own protection. My mother and my sisters are _not_ to be harmed."

He looked around the men in front of him for a moment.

"There's another man, goes by the name of Bedford, I'm sure you know him," he said, earning a couple of disgruntled sounds. "He's mine. I want to be the one to take his life, and the same goes for the King. Understood?"

Some men nodded.

"Good," Louis said. "Now, who here is ready to take back their Captain?"

A couple of cheers.

"I said, who here is ready to take back their Captain?" Louis repeated, and this time, earned the desired cheers, loud and strong and filled with the revenge that Louis needed to hear.

He knows that some men might not survive. They might not live to see the next morning's sun, or even the moon tonight. But he knew that his men knew. It was what made it all so incredible, in a sense; despite knowing about what could be their possible demise, they still joined the fight. There was no room to fear death anymore, there hadn't been for a long time, and there was only room for indisputable loyalty.

Louis placed an absent-minded hand on his stomach, sending a prayer to the sky that Harry was still alive by the time they reached the palace. He wanted his men to save Harry, but he didn't want to send them into their graves, knowing that this could full well be the case if he were to find out Harry was already dead.

However, Louis had to take the risk. Days of designing an absurdly detailed rescue plan could not be rendered useless just because Louis suddenly decided not to go through with it. He couldn't have any doubts either; he was the very heart of the plan. Every room, every shadow and every corner of the palace was engraved in his mind. He knew where the best hiding spots were, where the guards were less observant of their surroundings, which corridors were barely ever walked and which doors were never locked.

Every single piece of this knowledge had gone into the plan, and it was up to him to make sure that nothing went wrong. He had promised the men in front of him that they could take all the riches they could carry along the way, knowing that his family had more than enough to spare. He just prayed he didn't have to run into his sisters, because he couldn't bear the thought of seeing their betrayed expressions when they'd realise that he was now a pirate, part of the most feared ship in all the seven seas.

The thing he hoped most for, second to Harry being alive, was his chance at revenge. Bedford, his father, and now also Alice... he wanted to make each of them pay. Alice, however, was going to be stupidly difficult: she, quite literally, had Harry's life in her hands. He needed the blood she annually injected him with, because without it, he'd die. Louis only had the vial he was wearing under his shirt, and even that one couldn't keep Harry alive for longer than a year. If they were lucky, Harry would live for maybe two.

In a way, it was a no-win situation. If he saved Harry from his hanging, he'd die because of Alice. If Louis didn't save Harry, he'd die anyway. It was tricky, and Louis knew that his only other, real option was to keep Alice alive, in the hopes of being able to take her with them and force her to make enough to keep Harry alive until he would pass of old age.

But for now, Louis focused on what was coming first: getting his crew into the palace.

 ༻♛༺

Louis took a deep breath, readjusting the tricorn on top his head. He was back home and was about to prove to the world he was still alive and, consequently, might overthrow the throne because of it. It was a risk he was willing to take, however.

Still a bit unsure, Louis stepped out of the shadows from the tree he was under and started walking towards the gate, the only thing blocking his path to the palace. Well, not including the two guards at the front, that is. They, of course, immediately noticed Louis and tensed a little, recognising his attire like that of a pirate Captain. The tricorn hid his face from them, giving the upcoming reveal a satisfying pay-off.

"That's far enough!" One of the guards yelled once Louis got awfully close, and the latter stopped walking. Funnily enough, he felt the least bit intimidated by the two men now pointing their rifles at him. 

"Open the gate, would you be so kind?" he said, unable to keep his mouth from twisting into a small smirk.

"Who are you? State your name!" the same guard yelled, and oh, how much Louis loved this.

"Louis William Tomlinson, Crown Prince of England," he said, taking off his tricorn and doing a lazy curtsy, relishing in the shock portrayed in the guards' faces. "At your service."

Neither of the men in front of him opened the gate, so Louis sighed and put the tricorn back on his head. "Open the gate, I said, don't feel like standing around all day."

The other guard, who had yet to say a word, glanced at his partner with a nervous swallow. "I'm afraid we can't do that, Your Highness," he said. "We have strict orders from his Royal Majesty to keep the gates closed until instructed otherwise."

Louis tutted. Then, in less than five seconds, took his pistol from its holder and shot the man who had addressed him, who fell to the ground with a cry. He then pointed it at the other guard, cocking an eyebrow. "Open the gate. I won't ask again."

The guard hastily did as he was told, Louis walking closer and looking the man into his eyes when he was done. "What's your name, lad?" he asked, nearly laughing when he saw confusion etched into the guard's face at the use of language. It was fair, really, Royals usually didn't use the word 'lad' to address someone.

"Barnett, Your Highness, Barnett Smith," the guard said. 

Louis hummed in disinterest. "Inform the palace the Prince has arrived," he said. "But do a lap around the palace first, would you? Give me a head start and all that."

The guard nodded hastily. "Certainly, Your Highness," he said, and Louis nearly laughed again when the man actually did as he was told, starting to run into the opposite direction. By the time he was done, Louis would've been able to let his crew inside.

With newfound confidence at the familiar surroundings, Louis turned around and whistled two times. Three times meant defeat and retreat. Just as he had wanted, his crew appeared from all sides and yelling battle cries as they ran inside. Louis watched with a grin. "Remember the rules, lads!" he yelled as he followed them into the massive courtyard. "Remember the rules."

It was odd, to be back. The palace hadn't changed a bit. Well, to be fair, it wasn't decorated with dead guards and blood puddles before, but other than that, it was identical to the last time Louis had been there. He was getting a sense of deja vu, which was an odd thing to have while slitting someone's throat.

He watched to make sure that his men ran into the right corridors. Each corridor had a different group, which would then take over a certain part of the castle. It was clear that the guards hadn't expected a sudden pirate crew of 40 to attack, because despite constantly appearing over and over again, they were easily taken down. In the distance, Louis heard the bell ringing to warn the palace of an attack.

After a minute of fighting alongside his men, Louis managed to slip out of the gigantic fight and ran into one of the long corridors, knowing exactly which places he had to check. As he ran, he came across four or five guards that he took down with little difficulty. He remembered that he used to be impressed with his guards before had been taken from the palace, always finding them talented fighters, but now, he realised that they weren't as impressive as he had always thought. It was either that, or Louis was just that good, but he ought that not the case, considering that his style of fighting was still intertwined with kicking and hitting as he wielded his cutlass.

He walked swiftly, making sure to keep everything going as quick as possible. Their time in the palace had to be kept to a minimum to prevent any unnecessary deaths or men getting captured. 

It was the sound of a baby's wail that made him stop dead in his tracks, his hand instinctively landing on his stomach. He waited for a couple of seconds and then heard it again. It was coming from a room with its doors only slightly opened, allowing sound to escape but nothing to be seen from the outside. Louis slowly crept towards the door, his heart lurching into his throat when he saw his sister Charlotte in a chair close to a balcony, a maid standing beside her. In Charlotte's arms, was a baby.

Louis' stomach clenched at the sight. He had the strong desire to open the door further and step into the room, revealing himself to his sister and showing her he was still alive. He knew he couldn't, however. It would only complicate matters.

Lottie softly laughed at something the maid said, and Louis swallowed thickly at the sound. It dawned on him how much he had actually missed his sisters. Despite the pain, a small smile fought it's way to Louis' lips. Lottie was alive, she was okay, and she was now a mother; Louis was an uncle. She was too young, way too young, but despite that, Louis knew that she'd be a phenomenal mother.

Her child just wasn't going to grow up with its father.

After a few more seconds, Louis forced himself to look away and carefully shut the door, making sure he didn't make any sound. He looked around for a moment and then walked over to one of the guards he had killed, prying the cutlass from the dead man's hand and shoving it through the door handles to prevent anyone from leaving the room.

"I'm sorry," Louis whispered, granting the doors one last look before he continued his way, swallowing the sour taste in his mouth. 

After checking the rooms he knew to be options for Harry's death, like the throne room, for example, Louis realised that his first instinct had been right: Harry was in the gardens. He immediately started running towards the gardens, praying that it wasn't too late yet, but his path was blocked when he ran into no one other than Alice.

Her face contorted into the last thing Louis' expected: relief. She was relieved to see Louis. "Oh, thank—" she started, but Louis didn't allow her to finish and with a battle cry, pushed her against the wall and held his cutlass to her throat.

"Give me a good reason not to slit your fucking throat right now," he hissed, bringing his face closer to Alice, who stared at him with fearful eyes.

"Louis—"

"Tell me!" Louis yelled, pressing the blade to her throat and creating a small cut, a drop of blood escaping the wound and running down her skin, staining the dress she was wearing.

"You need Harry to live," Alice said, her eyes flickering to the cutlass. 

"You're the reason Harry is even in this place," Louis said, his nostrils flaring in anger. "Without you, this would've never happened."

Alice swallowed thickly, her eyes closing for a moment as she undoubtedly prayed for Louis to spare her life. "His blood, you need me for that," she said, her voice trembling with fear. "You're smart, you know you need me to keep him alive. The vial under your shirt isn't going to keep him alive forever."

"Again," Louis said, pressing the blade just a bit closer, "without you, this would've never happened."

Alice was about to answer, but then her eyes widened, snapping to the windows. "It's time," she said, and Louis had no clue how she knew, but he could see it wasn't a distraction on her part to try and escape. Her eyes met Louis' again. "You have to hurry, Louis, or you'll be too late."

"If I let you go, he's going to die anyway," Louis said, clenching his jaw when he realised that with each second he spent with Alice, Harry could be hanged. "If I kill you now, at least I get my revenge out of it."

"I can save him!" Alice exclaimed just as Louis was about to swipe his blade, making him pause. She was breathing heavily, her eyes filling with tears. "I—I perfected it. Made it permanent. It's in my room, I just—let me get it. I can save him, I swear on my life."

Louis tried to find any trace of lying in her eyes, but couldn't detect anything.

"I know you don't trust me, Louis, you have every right not to, but I need you to trust me on this," Alice continued, her eyes pleading. "I'll make sure it gets to Harry, whatever it takes, I promise."

After a small second, Louis realised he was running out of time and stepped back. "Why did you betray him?" 

Alice let go of a small breath, relieved that Louis spared her life. "Jealousy," she shamefully whispered, her eyes trained on the carpet under their feet. "I was so jealous. Harry had all the things I wanted; freedom, love, loyalty. And then, you were with child, and all I could feel was jealousy. I knew that if I'd hand him over to the King, I could get all the things I wanted."

"How...?" Louis asked, putting his hand on his stomach and not questioning the last part of her confession; he knew his father would reward whoever handed Harry over to him generously, it was something Louis had always been told while growing up. 

Alice offered him a small smile. "Witch, remember?" she said. Her smile abruptly disappeared when her eyes snapped to the window. "You have to hurry. It's time."

Louis was about to leave, but turned to her one last time, looking her up and down. "I"m not going to forgive you," he said. "You betrayed us. You betrayed Harry. All for your own greed. That's unforgivable."

"I never expected any less from you, Louis," Alice said, smiling weakly.

Without returning the smile, Louis turned around and ran down the hall, praying to the heavens that he wasn't too late. For all he knew, Alice had tried to stall him. He couldn't trust her, that much was obvious, and he just hoped he wasn't making a mistake by letting her go, and that she would keep to her promise.

Once in the gardens, Louis sprinted through them, pushing away the sense of familiarity at everything he saw and rushing to get to Harry on time. His heart sunk when he saw Harry up on a hanging platform, the noose already around his neck and the hangman standing beside him, his hand on the handle. All he had to was pull it and the floor under Harry would open. He'd die from a broken neck before he even had the chance to suffocate.

Pure hatred filtered into Louis' veins when he saw his father in front of the hanging platform, up on his own platform, sat on his throne. Beside him was Louis' mother whose face was filled with the same disdain his father had, and Louis didn’t know what to think when he saw Félicité standing beside her. 

Losing his way of thinking for a short second, Louis grabbed his dagger out of his belt and whipped it at his father, making sure that it didn’t actually harm him, or anyone else. The blade slammed into the wood below his family’s feet, trembling from the impact as Louis stopped just a couple of metres away from both the wooden structures.

It earned him the desired attention, and with a loud, shocked gasp, his mother jumped up, clutching her chest alongside Félicité, whose face went from scared to complete disbelief and happiness. “Louis!” She exclaimed, going to run off the platform when the guards stopped her.

”Louis,” another, much rougher voice said, and with a both sweet and sheepish smile, Louis met a surprised Harry’s eyes.

”Hi, love,” he said, and reached into his pocket to hold up Harry’s pocket watch. “‘M’afraid you forgot this.”

A smirk spread over Harry’s face, a mixture of pride and satisfaction that Louis had missed so, so much in the week they had spent apart. 

But Louis couldn’t focus on him, not too long, because his father was right there, beside his mother who looked like she had just stared into the eyes of God. The pale, both fear- and awe-stricken face nearly made Louis feel as if he was a ghost. To her, he probably was. 

”Hello, father,” Louis said, spitting out the name as if it was an insult instead of an honorary title.

”Louis,” his father said, the third person to use his name in the last two minutes, something that was now getting Louis worked up.

”You don’t seem surprised to see me,” he said, taking a step forward as he narrowed his eyes. “Is it because you knew I wasn’t dead, even though you told the whole world I was? Tell me, was it easy to pretend like you were devastated when you told people your son had killed himself?”

His father merely smiled. “What are you doing here, Louis?” He asked. As if he didn’t know.

”Here to save my husband,” he said, ignoring the gasps from his mother and sister. “Here to kill you as well.”

”Kill me?” His father mused, clicking his finger. Just as Louis had expected, Bedford stepped forward, out of the shadows and towards Louis. “Your own father?”

”Haven’t got a father,” Louis immediately said, gripping his cutlass a little tighter as he eyed Bedford. “He’s dead to me already. Only here to finish it off.”

Bedford unsheathed his own cutlass and pointed it at Louis in the form of a warning. “You don’t talk to the King like that,” he hissed. “I’ll kill you for your disrespect.”

”And deny the Queen her right to meet her grandchild?” Louis said. It hadn’t exactly been the way he had wanted to tell Harry, but alas. When he glanced at his husband, Louis saw him with his jaw dropped and his face a lot paler than before. Louis smiled weakly.

”Grandchild? What grandchild?” His father asked, getting up from his throne with furrowed brows. “Are you...”

”Yes,” Louis said. “And I ain’t about to let you lot murder the father of my child.”

He loved the response he got to his words. The fact that he didn’t use proper words and spoke posh as he had been taught his entire life clearly shocked his family, maybe even more than the pregnancy and marriage. 

Without waiting a second longer, Louis jumped into action and took a swing at Bedford with his blade. The man didn’t expect it and barely managed to block. However, the fight wasn’t going to be easy at all: Louis knew that Bedford was a skilled swordsman. When he still lived in the palace his father forced him to watch one-on-one battles in the training fields to show him what ‘real men’ looked like. Bedford always stuck out with head and shoulders, better than most of the other men combined. 

But Louis wasn’t a bad fighter either. He blocked as many times as he stabbed, barely managed to avoid the blade as many times as Bedford and had clearly as much trouble with beating his opponent—it all proved that they were equal swordsmen.

Louis wasn’t just here to fight, however; he was here to kill Bedford. The fact that the man was the father of his sister’s child didn’t matter to him. So he put every ounce of power and skill he had into the fight, using the idea of being able to hold Harry soon as his mental strength to continue, and kicked Bedford in the stomach.

The man hadn’t expected it and stumbled back with a groan, grabbing his stomach at the feeling of pain. Louis used his momentum to stab Bedford’s leg, simultaneously feeling the man’s blade cut his shoulder but ignoring the piercing pain and watching how his opponent tried to stumble away.

He was a coward. Louis should’ve known. He walked around the man and put an arm around his neck from behind, pressing the tip of the blade against his back and putting his lips to Bedford’s ear. 

“This is for my sister. For my husband. And for all the times you treated me like I was nothin’ but filth,” Louis hissed, forcing Bedford to look at the King as he struggled to get out of Louis’ arms. “Look at you. Dying in front of your King, who’s doing nothing to help you.”

Louis scoffed, and whispered one last thing. “See you in hell.”

And he pushed his blade through the man’s back, piercing his heart and holding him until Bedford stopped exclaiming in agony and his body stopped convulsing. Then he let go and retreated his cutlass, allowing Bedford’s lifeless body to thud on the ground.

There was a bit of shame that filled him when he saw his mother, who looked like she was ready to pass out. His sister looked the same, the both of them clearly appalled by who Louis had become in the short year he hadn’t been on the ship. To them, he was a brute and a monster now, not the proper prince they had always known him as.

He didn’t respond to it and pointed his cutlass at his father, not bothering to wipe the blood off the blade or the fact that it was staining his clothes. “Release my husband and the father of my child,” he said, taking a step forward, “or I’ll kill you with my bare fucking hands.”

After a moment of silence, his father spoke up. “On one condition,” he said. “As he walks through the gates, you stay. He’ll leave and never come back and will leave you here, with your family where you belong, and we’ll let him live.” He glanced at Harry. “But only then. If he were to return, it’ll mean the end for you both.”

Louis glanced over his shoulder at Harry, who shook his head. He seemed to think that there was another way, but Louis knew better. There wasn’t. It was an ultimatum: either Harry died or Harry lived, but the second option would mean that they would never be able to see each other again anyway. Both options resulted in their seperation, but only one would allow Harry to live, and to move on and to fall in love again. Louis would give up everything if it allowed Harry to live in freedom.

So he gave up everything. “Okay,” he weakly said, meeting his father’s eyes and ignoring the fury he felt at the satisfactory look in them. “I’ll stay.”

”No! No!” Harry yelled, struggling against his restraints. “Louis, no! You can’t!” 

He attempted to hit the man trying to calm him down. “Let me go!”

Much to Louis’ surprise, his father held up his hand. “Release him. Allow them to say goodbye.”

As soon as Harry was free he jumped off the platform, not bothering to use the steps and grabbing Louis’ face, staring deeply into his eyes. “Are you fucking mental?” He said. “This—you can’t. I can’t.”

”But you can,” Louis said, smiling weakly and putting one of his hands over Harry’s. “You’re going to leave this, leave it far behind and you’re going to live, sail the seas and rule them like no one else could possibly ever do.”

Harry shook his head, his bloodshot eyes filling with tears. “I can’t leave you, Louis,” he said. “How can I live without you? There’s is nothing to live for if you’re not with me.” He glanced down at Louis’ stomach. “You’re having my child. How could I possibly leave you?”

Louis allowed his own tears to spill, but despite them, he still kept smiling. He wanted his last moment with Harry to be with a smile and nothing else. “Because it’ll mean that we’ll both get to live,” he said, squeezing Harry’s hand. “And when she’s old enough, I’ll send her out into the world with a ship to find you. So that you can meet her, and she’ll get to meet the most amazing man that has ever sailed the seas and call him her father.”

A tear escaped Harry’s eyes. “She?”

Louis nodded, his smile growing sad. “I’ve got a bit of a hunch.”

”Hurry up! We haven’t got all day!” His father suddenly yelled, and Louis gripped Harry’s hand tighter.

”Promise me,” he pleaded, “promise me you’re going to leave. That you’re going to live—not just for yourself, but for me.”

”I can’t promise you that,” Harry whispered, shaking his head. “I love you. I can’t move on from you.”

Knowing that it was fruitless, Louis kissed him, pressing their lips together in a bruising kiss. It was bittersweet and painful and made him want to scream in agony.

When they pulled apart, Harry whispered, “Darcy.”

”Darcy?” Louis asked.

”When she’s born. Call her Darcy,” Harry said, his thumb rubbing over Louis’ cheekbone. “I’ve always loved that name.”

”Okay. Darcy Tomlinson-Styles,” Louis said, pressing a kiss to Harry’s lips again. “I love you.”

”I love you more.”

And then, suddenly, they were pulled apart and guards were dragging Harry away from Louis, who was being held back. He watched a struggling Harry who cursed everyone and everything, yelling out Louis’ name and promising promises Louis knew he couldn’t keep.

When Harry was out of sight, Louis stopped trying to be strong and dropped on his knees, hid his face in his hands and started crying. He didn’t care that his father saw, or his mother or his sister. He sobbed as he felt the worst pain he had ever felt spread through his body, knowing that it didn’t matter who saw.

Everything he had, everything he loved, was gone. Forever. Harry wouldn’t get to see their child grow up, Louis wouldn’t get to tell Harry he loved him ever again, he wouldn’t get to see Niall, or Zayn or Liam ever again. The Cursed Odyssey was now nothing but a memory. The ring on his finger was now nothing but a bitter reminder of what could’ve been if they had been more careful, but it was too late now. 

It was finished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why didn’t Louis kill his father?
> 
> \- the amount of guards. Had Louis killed him, they would’ve hanged Harry before Louis could even get to him (and he couldn’t even get to his father, because again, guards were blocking the way).  
> \- apprehension. A part of Louis, no matter how small, still loves his father, as once upon a time, they were close family before Louis presented as Omega. That same part unconsciously believes they can go back to that close relationship.


	25. Vengeance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because my aunt unexpectedly passed away a couple of weeks ago, I have been having a tough time with writing and, well, functioning as a regular person, really. This is why the update is so late.
> 
> On a lighter note, I got a girlfriend :). She’s been helping me get through all the tough things in my life and is slowly helping me be that happy girl I used to be.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this last chapter. The next chapter will be the epilogue. Thank you all for sticking with me through all of this! I could never thank you enough.

His bedroom was still the same. Bed perfectly made, against the wall in the back of the unnecessarily big room. Lavish pillows and rugs from wherever. There wasn’t the smallest bit of personality in the decor and it still looked like nobody had ever set foot in the room. Everything was the same, nothing had changed inside.

Except for Louis, who had never felt more out of place than he did at that moment. His parents had locked him in here after Harry had left alongside his crew, who, Louis heard, had not been on board with the plan of leaving him behind. Three of their men had died trying to get to Louis, which was heart-wrenching, to know that their loyalty had truly been unfaltering.

”You’re home now,” his mother had said, but Louis had disagreed (and still did), because home was no longer a place, but a person.

He didn’t even have time to settle in, because only minutes after his mother had left him alone, a servant had walked in. “We have prepared a bath for you, your Highness,” she said, her hands clasped in front of her waist.

“A bath?” Louis asked from where he was sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Yes, your Highness.”

”Give it to my sisters, I ain’t need to be cleaned,” Louis muttered, ignoring the surprised look he got at his vocabulary. “Who told you to do that anyway?”

”Your father the King, your Highness,” the servant said, shuffling nervously.

”My father the King,” Louis mocked, getting to his feet. “Well, you can tell my father the King that if he wants me to do something, he can ask for it personally instead of sending a servant every three fucking seconds.”

The girl nodded, her eyes wide at his profanity and blatant disrespect. “Your Highness,” she quietly said, giving a small curtsy and bowing her head before scurrying out of the room. Louis felt a bit guilty for being so rude towards her, but he needed to make everyone see that he hated it here. Not a single second that Louis was going to spend here was he going to smile or laugh or look happy: he hated the palace and nearly everyone that lived inside.

Nearly everyone. His mother and his sisters (and now, his nephew) were the sweetest and kindest people he knew, and he would never do anything to hurt them. They deserved to be happy. To enjoy their life. When it came down to his father, Louis would get his revenge eventually. He had infiltrated the palace now, getting to his father to end his life once and for all was going to be easy. He suspected it would only take him a week to figure out when and where his father was going to be alone. He'd take his life, leave the castle and never turn back, hopefully finding the Cursed Odyssey soon after.

It was a simple plan. Now he only needed to go through with it.

༻♛༺

Louis should've known it had never been that simple. He was stripped from all his weapons and was kept far away from all the weapon rooms. Nearly all of his privileges were taken away as well: he wasn't allowed to go outside, to walk to any rooms alone, forced to bring a guard with him to absolutely everywhere and nearly always forced to be in his bedroom. His father, he barely saw. Either the man was avoiding him, or he simply couldn't stand to be around Louis: Louis was fine with either, if he couldn't kill his father he didn't want to be around him.

This went on for a full month.

Throughout the entire month, Louis was absolutely miserable. The fact that he couldn't physically be with Harry provided for an ache in his chest that never went away, a result of their bond. Louis knew that Harry felt it too, wherever he now was.

Louis just missed him so much. Infinitely, really. Not a minute passed that he didn't think of Harry, and not a minute passed that Louis didn't wonder about his wellbeing. More often than not did Louis wonder about Niall, Zayn and Liam, about their safety and what they were up to. A lot could happen in a month: were they still part of the crew? Had they moved on? Had they got wounded in battle? Had they died?

Every day, Louis spent worrying about his crew, his friends and his husband—plainly, his family.

This, of course, didn't go unnoticed by his biological family. During every meal he shared with them, he would stare off into space and not bother to participate in any conversations. The only times he would really react was when his sisters or his mother would specifically say his name and ask him something, and even then, his answers would be short. Never curt, they didn't deserve that, but short.

The place he had called his home for years no longer felt like a home. Instead, everything felt foreign. The expensive clothing, the rich rooms and the perfected food didn't feel right anymore, not like they used to. Before Louis had been kidnapped from the castle, it had been all he was used to, to have everything at his disposal at all times: however, living his life as a pirate completely changed his perspective on life. He enjoyed fighting to survive, to have that constant uncertainty of a tomorrow; it was what kept him going, simply because he didn't know what the next hour could bring.

Now, he knew what every next second was going to be like, every day the same. He was honestly surprised he had lasted as long as did before his life of piracy: had it not been for the child in his stomach and the chance of hopefully seeing his husband one more time, Louis would've ended his life already, because this was simply not the way he wanted to continue living.

His mother had asked him, once, one evening when they were sat in front of the fireplace in a more comfortable, private room, about his sadness. Louis had been staring into the fire, his mother had been reading a book.

"Why don't you smile, dear?" she had asked.

"Got nothin' to smile for," he had simply said.

"What about your family?"

"My family's out in the world, alongside the love of my life, sailin’ the seas. Again, I don't got much to smile for."

He had left the room after that, ignoring the guard that followed him and refusing to meet his mother's sad eyes that never left him.

That had been a week and a half ago, but of course, nothing had changed.

Whenever Louis was in his room, he'd sit in the armchairs by the windows that led to the balcony. He wasn't out allowed on the balcony as if it provided him with a path to leave, so he had to do with what he had and had pushed one of the chairs as close to the glass doors as he could. There, he would sit for hours on end, alternating between staring at the sea and trying to read a book and staring at his wedding ring. Sometimes, he'd twirl with the vial that he still wore around his neck under his clothes, only because it reminded him of Harry.

Alice had disappeared without a trace from the palace. Louis would know: he had spent an entire day trying to find her, only to have been told that she had taken off without telling anyone. It had been cowardly in Louis' book, but he had only hoped that she had used her freedom to get the perfected blood to Harry so that the latter would never have to get another injection. There was no way of knowing if she had ever actually given it to Harry, but Louis just hoped that she had a bit of self-respect left and had done the right thing.

The past hour, Charlotte had sat with him by the window alongside Félicité. Louis had been holding his newborn nephew Charles. Charlotte had never blamed Louis for killing Bedford: she had simply thanked him one night, and that had been that. She hadn't been sad, but because the two had been legally wedded and she was expected to be in mourning for him, she had been wearing black clothing for the last couple of weeks.

That day was the first time in weeks that she was wearing colour again. Moments spend with her were one of the best for Louis: they managed to bring a smile to his face, and were, unfortunately, quite a rare occurrence. Their father barely allowed Louis and his sisters to see each other privately, almost as if he was afraid that they were plotting against him.

"I can't believe I'm going to be an aunt," Charlotte said with a small smile, watching Louis and her son interacting.

"I'm going to be one for the second time," Félicité said, chuckling along with Charlotte. Louis only smiled and allowed Charles, affectionately called Charlie by family, to grasp his pinky finger.

"You can tell he adores you," Charlotte remarked, folding her hands in her lap.

Louis nodded. "He's got a grip on him, the lad."

Félicité shivered and shook her head a little. "I don't think I might ever get used to you talking like... like..."

"A pirate?" Louis finished for her, momentarily eyeing her before he returned his focus to Charlie. "I am one, darlin'. Got to get used it at some point, yeah?"

"You're a prince," Félicité said, narrowing her eyes a little bit and ignoring Charlotte who gave her a warning look. "The crown prince, actually. Maybe you should get used to that."

"He ain't ever puttin' me on the throne, Fiz," Louis said, sighing softly and carefully handing Charlie back over to his mother, who frowned. "He's afraid I might overthrow the kingdom. Got half a mind to do it, too."

Charlotte sighed and shook her head. "You shouldn't joke about that, Louis," she said, brushing some of Charlie's hair from the boy's forehead. "Royal duties and the kingdom are no laughing matter."

Despite just being scolded by his younger sister, Louis smiled at her. "You sound like mum," he said, reaching over and putting a hand on her knee. "Reckon you'd be a great Queen, don't you?"

"You already have an heir," Félicité added to it, giving Charlie a meaningful look. "You'd be a spectacular Queen."

"Thank you, but I don't think Father would allow me until I'm wedded again," Charlotte said, her gaze turning sad as she looked at her baby. "It doesn't matter whether I want to be wedded or not. In his eyes, a country can't be ruled by just a woman."

"An Omega," Louis corrected, leaning back in his seat and pulling one leg up, ignoring the distasteful look his sisters gave him when he put his feet on the expensive chair. "He don't want an Omega on the throne. Don't matter if it's a woman or not."

"Could you at least try to speak like you used to?" Félicité said, shaking her head again with a scrunched up face. She clearly hated Louis' way of speech, with his incorrect grammar and lazy pronunciation. "You're not even trying to act like a prince."

"'Cause I ain't one," Louis simply said, staring out to the sea visible from the window with a longing look. "I just ain't."

A silence fell over the room, and Louis noticed himself feeling a bit different than usual. It took him a moment, but then he realised that it wasn't himself that was feeling like that, but Harry: he still sensed Harry's feelings, physical and emotional. Harry felt... happier. Something had changed, something that caused him to feel lighter. Louis swallowed thickly and willed the tears that were welling in his eyes away.

He had been waiting for it, for Harry to eventually move on. Hell, he had wanted it, but now that it was seeming to happen, he couldn't help but feel a profound sadness at it. A sadness he knew Harry could sense as well. It was almost funny, that Louis had wanted Harry to move on, but that he wanted nothing more than for Harry to stay loyal to Louis now that he was finally seeming to get over Louis.

“ _I_ _love_ _you_. _I_ _can’t_ _move_ _on_ _from_ _you_.”

Liar, liar, liar.

" _There’s_   _nothing_ _to_ _live_ _for_ _if_ _you’re_ _not_ _with_ _me_."

Harry was a liar, but fuck did Louis love that vicious pirate.

"You miss him a lot, don't you?" Charlotte tentatively asked, pulling Louis out of his own head.

"Yeah," he whispered, digging his fingers into his thigh to stop himself from bursting into tears. He didn't allow himself to cry anymore and hadn't since that day he had saved Harry from getting hanged.

"I wish to love someone as much as you do one day," Félicité wistfully said, exhaling deeply.

Louis glanced at her. "When you do," he said, "promise me you're never going to let them go. I don't want you going through what I'm going through."

Surprised at Louis' sincere words and his use of proper grammar, Félicité only nodded, her eyes a bit widened. Louis looked away again, twisting the ring on his ring finger around and pushing away the pain in his chest.

"What's it like?" Charlotte suddenly asked, her voice quiet. It was obvious that she had been thinking about the question for a while now. "Out there? On the sea? Your life, what is it like?"

It wasn't his life anymore, but Louis didn't say that out loud. "Free," he said, staring out in front of him. "There are no rules, no laws to abide by. There's only freedom. You wake up when you want, eat what you can find and fight to the death at least every single week, but there is never a moment that you don't feel alive." He sighed softly. "I was lucky enough to get a taste, and I know that there's nothing like it in the world. Difficult to know I can never get it back."

He missed the look Félicité and Charlotte shared at his last sentence, something meaningful he probably would've wanted to see had he known about it.

Before anyone could say anything else, there was a knock on the door that opened after a small moment. Behind it were two guards. They didn't say anything because they simply didn't need to; the three royals knew that their time together that evening was up.

After hugging Charlotte and Félicité and kissing Charlie's forehead, Louis sat down in his chair again and watched how they left the room. The door shut with a small click and the room was silent oncw more. Louis had the urge to cry.

He sat there till it was deep into the night. He must've fallen asleep at some point because he was startled awake from an image of Harry's smile by the sound of his door opening. When he glanced over his shoulder he saw that it was his mother. Despite finding it an odd hour, Louis didn't react to seeing her and looked back at the window. It was too dark to look outside, the candlelight reflecting off the windows and creating a clear image of what was behind Louis, who saw that his mother had paused in the doorway.

"I was hoping you'd be awake," she quietly said, not moving even the slightest. She seemed nervous. Louis blamed it on his cold attitude towards her.

"Why?" he asked, looking down at his lap.

"You've got a visitor."

"Whoever it is, tell them to leave and come back at a reasonable hour tomorrow morning," Louis said, wondering what was possessing this mysterious 'visitor' to come by near midnight.

"I think you'll want to see this one, Louis," his mother said.

When Louis looked up, he saw his mother stepping aside and allowing a tall, cloaked figure to step into the room. Despite being unable to see the person's face, Louis' heart still jumped at the familiar scent.

It couldn't be him, it couldn't be.

Yet, when the figure saw Louis' reflection Louis felt an intense happiness flow through him that definitely wasn't his own. When the figure took off his hood, the happiness did become Louis' own.

He shot up from his chair and ran over to Harry, jumping into his familiar arms and allowing a couple of tears to escape. He breathed shakily, grabbing Harry's face with both hands and flickering his eyes over Harry's face, barely comprehending that Harry was real, that he was there, under Louis' fingertips.

"You're—"

"Yeah."

Unable to hold back, they crushed their lips together, kissing fiercely. It was as if something clicked within Louis. An intense peace settled within him, and he nearly found himself passing out from happiness.

Louis hugged Harry tightly after pulling back from the kiss, burying his face in his curls and breathing in his scent, feeling more at peace than he had in the last four weeks. They clutched onto each other, and Louis realised that he'd be more than fine with staying like this forever.

"How?" he whispered, pulling back again, staring into the most beautiful green eyes.

“Your mother,” Harry said, glancing at the Queen who was watching them with a small smile. “She contacted me.”

Louis looked at his mother with a smile. “Thank you,” he whispered. “For allowing me to see him again.”

”He’s not here for you only to see,” his mother said, swallowing thickly and putting on a smile. “You’re leaving with him.”

Immediately, the feeling Louis had sensed from Harry that evening made a lot more sense. Harry hadn’t felt happier because he was moving on; he felt happier because he knew he was going to see Louis again. Since when had Louis been so distrustful of Harry? He needed to get a grip.

“What?” Louis asked, looking at Harry with wide eyes, who nodded. “I—you’re letting me leave? Why?”

”Because I could tell you weren’t happy,” his mother said, her smile growing sad. “As a mother, all I could want is for my children to be happy, and for you, that happiness isn’t here. I might not understand it, but that doesn’t mean I will deprive you of it.”

Rendered speechless, all Louis could do was hug his mother tightly and thank God over and over again for allowing him to have a mother like her. ”Thank you,” he said. “Thank you, mother, thank you.”

She didn’t reply and simply petted the back of his head. After a minute or so she pulled back and looked Louis into his eyes. “You take care of yourself,” she hoarsely whispered. “You take care of your child. Make me proud.”

It was the first time she had mentioned the child. It caused Louis to smile. “I will,” he sincerely said. “And if I don’t, Harry will.”

His mother glanced at Harry and nodded slowly. “I know.”

Louis stepped back and swallowed thickly when he realised that this was going to be his only chance at revenge. This was going to be his only chance at killing his father once and for all. “Father knows, doesn’t he?” He asked, referring to Harry being in the castle and his own departure, and after a small moment, his mother nodded. “Where is he?”

”The throne room,” she whispered.

”You understand that I’m not going to let him live, right?” Louis asked, aware that Harry put a hand on his lower back.

“Do what you must,” his mother quietly said, glancing at the windows. “But whatever you do, do it with your head held high and without regret.”

Maybe his mother hated the king as much as Louis did.

They left the room, shutting it as quietly as they could. When Louis turned to Harry, he immediately saw the pure relief in his eyes and was unable to hold back, surging forward just as Harry did the same. Their lips met in a bruising kiss, and Louis was quite sure that he could die in that moment, and that he wouldn’t mind it.

”I love you,” Louis whispered when they parted, pressing their foreheads together.

”I love you far more,” Harry said, brushing his hand through Louis’ hair on the back of his head. “Far fucking more.”

Louis kissed him again, his brows furrowed together. “Thank you for never leaving me.”

”How could I have left you?”

This brought a smile to Louis’ features, and he stroked his thumb over Harry’s cheekbone. “How are the others?” He asked. “Zayn, Liam, Niall? Are they alive?”

”They’re fine,” Harry said, giving him a reassuring smile.

”What happened with Alice?” Louis asked, not too happy with using her name in such an intimate moment but still needing to know if she had kept her promise. “Did she...?”

”She did,” Harry said. “Made it permanent. She’s dead, though.”

Louis nodded slowly. The news didn’t surprise him: it hurt him a little, because part of him, the soft part, had still considered her as a friend despite what she had done. “Did you kill her?”

”No,” Harry said, shaking his head. “Killed herself. Walked straight into the sea after she helped me.”

With a sigh, Louis straightened up a little. “We should go,” he quietly said. “Father is waiting.”

Referring to him as his father felt wrong for a lot of reasons. Alas, the man would die tonight. Louis would never have to refer to him as anything ever again after this.

He led the way to the throne room, Harry behind him with his cutlass in hand. He had given Louis his own, which he had received from Louis’ mother after she had made a trip to the weapon room where Louis wasn’t allowed. Louis really loved his mother, for her willingness for making such big sacrifices for her own children.

The throne room was dark and cold, an air of death and defeat hanging over the only three people in the room. Louis noticed his father standing in front of his throne, dressed in his official robes he would only wear when going out to visit his people, or when he was receiving important guests. He was prepared to die, it seemed. Louis, for a short moment, ought it brave. Then he remembered who the man exactly was, and what he had done.

”I was wondering if you would be capable of this,” his father said without turning around. “But I’ve come to realise I have always underestimated you.”

”You never gave me a chance to show you what I’m capable of,” Louis said, standing a couple of feet away from his father, cutlass grasped tightly. “You belittled me after I presented Omega, treated me as if I was nothin’ but filth.”

Finally, Louis’ father turned around. His eyes flickered to Harry for a moment, before he focused on Louis. “What do you want from me, Louis? My apologies?”

”No, I know they won’t be sincere,” Louis said, narrowing his eyes a little. “To kill you, that’s what I want.”

”So I’ve understood,” his father said, letting go of a heavy sigh. “You’ll be hunted by everyone, Louis. People will want vengeance for this.”

”Not if we tell the world you died of natural causes, of an illness,” Louis said, taking a step forward. “Maybe mother will tell the world you killed yourself, like you did when I disappeared. Wouldn’t that be ironic?”

For some reason, the man in front of him smiled before looking at Harry. “The infamous Harry Styles,” he said. “Captain of the Cursed Odyssey and the most feared men in all the seas.” He looked at Louis again. “Out of all the men in the world, you chose him. Chose him as your Alpha, as your husband and as the father of your child.”

Louis could feel pure hate radiate off Harry, who was insulted by what the King was saying about him. Harry had always hated being mocked by others, Louis knew that about him, and not even a King could get away with it. Then again: it wasn’t like he was going to live to tell the tale.

”Best decision of my life, really,” Louis said, not missing the surge of love he sensed in Harry.

“That’s what you think today,” the King said. “One day you’ll realise that he was the worst thing to have ever happened to you. Maybe not tomorrow, but one day.”

Louis surged forward, bringing up his sword but not yet hurting his father. “Shut up,” he hissed. “You don’t know anything. You think you do, but you don’t. _You_ were the worst thing that ever happened to me, not him.”

His father simply looked at him. “One day,” he only said, before holding out his arms. “Now, how about we do what you came here to do and finish this once and for all?”

Something stopped Louis from moving. It was the fact that his father didn’t fight back: he wasn’t pleading for his life, wasn’t screaming for the guards... he had surrendered. Truly, fully surrendered.

”Louis?” Harry asked from where he was still standing, confused by Louis’ rigid posture.

Louis ignored him. “Why?” He hoarsely whispered to his father. “I was your son. Your firstborn. Why did you treat me like I was a stray dog, like I was nothing to you at all?”

“I was only treating you the way you would’ve been treated once you’d been wed to another man,” his father said, and there was not a single trace of regret in his tone or in his face. It broke Louis’ heart. “I was preparing you.”

”You were wrong,” Louis said, shaking his head a little. “Harry treats me with respect, with love, not like what you did. He has never once belittled me.”

”Maybe not,” was all he got in return.

Louis swallowed thickly. “Fight back.”

”Why? This is the end for me.”

”Fight!” Louis yelled, his eyes pricking with tears. “For once in your life, treat me like an equal and fight back!”

Completely overwhelmed, Louis punched his father, who stumbled back but didn’t do anything. He hit him again, but still didn’t get the response he wanted.

”Come on!” He desperately yelled, punching and kicking but never illiciting a response. “Do something! Fight back!”

He didn’t care about who could hear him, or what he looked like. All he wanted was his father to treat him like an equal and for him to fight back, all so that Louis could prove to his father that he was capable of fighting, and that he could kill if he wanted to.

And maybe, some dark part of him just wanted his father to tell him that he loved him, because in the end, it was his father, and he had never told Louis he loved him.

With a loud yell, Louis suddenly pushed his blade into his father’s chest until the tip of it stuck out his back. His father grabbed the blade, gasping in pain before dropping on his knees. Louis followed, and held the man up by his shoulder, his other hand still on the hilt of his cutlass.

His father coughed up blood which stained Louis’ clothes, but Louis didn’t pay it any mind and looked his father straight in his eyes. He was going to watch his father die. It was what he wanted.

”Look at that,” his father heaved, one hand grabbing Louis’ arm that was holding him up. “You really... really are capable... of murder.”

”Finally proved myself to you, did I?” Louis bitterly said, noticing a drop of blood dripping down his father’s chin.

”There... was nothing for... for you to prove,” his father said, his body leaning heavier and heavier against Louis’ hand. “I always knew... you had it... it in you.”

Louis breathed heavily through his nose and kept silent. He spent the last few seconds his father was alive staring into the man’s eyes, which eventually went dull. The man leaned heavily against Louis, who let go of a soft sigh.

It was finished.

Louis stood up and retreated his cutlass, wiping the blade on his clothes and staining them with blood before he sheathed it. He didn’t grant his father’s body a last look and turned to Harry, who was looking at him with a sad but proud expression.

”It’s over,” Louis whispered.

”I know,” Harry said, walking over and wrapping his arms around Louis, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Let’s go home.”

Louis looked up and smiled, kissing Harry gently.

”Yeah. Home.”


	26. Epilogue

𝕰𝖕𝖎𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊

 

Louis was happy.

It was funny, how the world could work like that, that a person could pause, look up to the sky and realise, with a small smile, that they were happy.

It wasn't just today that he was happy, however. He had been happy for the last nine years. In fact, he was so happy, that he was often a bit surprised when he wasn't, although that made sense; he was, after all, a parent, and a parent had their moments of non-happiness when their children annoyed them with something.

The birth of his first ( _their_ first, really, it was Harry's child as well) had been incredibly stressful, but only on his husband's part. After feeling a pain three times in his stomach with a couple of minutes in between, Louis had realised that it had started and had calmly woken up Harry, who had then turned very pale when Louis informed him he was about to deliver a baby. In fact, when he got up to wake Liam, he had nearly passed out.

Liam, albeit a bit nervous, had been fairly calm as well, especially compared to Harry, who had been on the brink of losing his mind the entire nine hours Louis had been in the bed, birthing a kid. That particular part had been very painful.

"Breathe, alright? Breathe."

"I'm trying!"

"Well, you ain't trying hard enough, Harry."

At some points, Zayn had taken Harry outside to help him breathe in some fresh air, and during an especially stressful moment, Niall had whacked him on the back of the head, effectively snapping Harry out of it for a couple of minutes. Then Louis had exclaimed in pain from a sharp contraction and Harry had gone back to that panicked state.

Admittedly, Darcy had been worth it. With her long curly hair and bright blue eyes, Louis had trouble understanding that he actually had something he called a life before her. At eight years old, she had seen more of the world than most kings in their old age had.

At first, it had been difficult when it turned out that they had given birth to a daughter, instead of a son. A lot of their hands had been reluctant about the idea of a female on board, and some had even left the crew. Most, however, had stayed, and before long, Darcy had been completely unimaginable from the ship. The crew had sworn to keep her safe no matter what, although it wasn't like she was completely incapable of fending for herself or her younger siblings. She was very, very quick-witted and even quicker with a dagger or a cutlass. She had yet to win from Harry, but Louis was quite sure it wasn't going to be long before she did.

The twins Cecily and Oliver (affectionately called Olly) were two years younger, but that didn't matter when it came to their mental strength. They were incredibly tough, Louis had witnessed that so many times, and so scarily like Harry in their tempers that it was sometimes a bit baffling. How many times did Louis have to climb the main mast because one or the other had climbed it all the way to the top (all out of spite towards everyone else on the ship)? He had lost count, really.

Having three children was the guarantee for a stressful life, and more often than not, Louis and Harry had been in fits because they were missing number three during head count after a battle with another ship. The third one always showed up, however, sometimes with a man they had taken prisoner without anyone's knowledge. Louis still wasn't sure how two five-year-olds had been able to take down a six foot Alpha that one time, but he assumed that it had to do with their odd synchronicity and ability of always knowing what the other was doing.

One benefit of having your childhood on a pirate ship was that you grew humble. This was a requirement Louis made as soon as he had given birth: there was no way their children were going to grow up conceited, no thank you. Really, there was just no way their children were going to grow up like Louis did, to be very simple about it. There were no riches in a pirate life, and that was a very, very simple thing their children grew up with.

Yet, standing there, watching the sunset at the very front of the ship, Louis was quite sure that he was the richest man in the world. It was because he could hear his children play in the background, and Harry's voice and laughter with it and the fact that he was on the seas, the only place he could see himself be on the rest of his life. 

"Oi, hearties!" a familiar Irish voice suddenly called out. Louis smiled a little without turning around; 'hearties' was the nickname the kids had ended up with from the crew members, something affectionate that had simply stuck. Niall, now happily mated with a lad who was still back in Ireland, had started it. "Supper, let's go! Before I eat for you!"

"You won't, uncle Niall, or we'll pillage your booty in your sleep!" Darcy replied, but Louis could hear her and her siblings' footsteps towards the crew mess. 

"Aye, lassie, sure you will."

Louis waited for what he knew was going to happen next, simply because he knew Harry far too well and because their bond gave away a lot of things. 

After a couple of seconds, a pair of very strong arms wrapped around Louis from behind, and instinctively, Louis leaned into Harry's chest, smiling when Harry buried his face in the crook of his neck. After nine years, they were still as affectionate as they were in the beginning.

"Happy ninth anniversary," Harry murmured against Louis' skin. Louis stroked his fingers over one of Harry's hands.

"Nine years," he softly said. "That's a while."

"Yeah. Didn't feel like that, though."

"No, it didn't."

Despite there not being any music, Harry started swinging a little, forcing Louis to move with him and making him smile even wider. "You know I'm happy?"

"I know," Harry said, pressing a couple of kisses to Louis' neck. "I can feel what you feel, remember?"

"Like I'd forget," Louis teased, chuckling when Harry lightly nipped at his neck. "But 'm not feeling it like that, though. I _am_ happy. I don't know, it's difficult to say."

Harry lifted his head and pressed a kiss to his jaw. "Maybe it's because you're living your dream."

"One wonderful dream I'm living in," Louis said, leaning his head against Harry's.

He didn't need to look to know that Harry was smiling. "I know why I'm happy," he said, nudging his head a little against Louis'. "I'm happy because I'm sailing the seas, married to the love of my life, my fucking soulmate, and because I have three ridiculous children."

Louis smiled. "Four, actually."

After a short second, Harry turned Louis sideways so their eyes meet could meet, a giant, beaming smile on his features. "You're pregnant again?"

"Yeah," Louis said, having difficulty with stopping his grin from growing when Harry kissed him hard enough for their lips to bruise. Harry's smile didn't falter when he pulled back.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you more," Louis replied. Harry shook his head.

"I think I love you more, actually," he said. "Cute that you think you stand a chance."

"Bastard," Louis said with a grin, kissing Harry again and putting a hand on the back of his head, feeling one of Harry's hands slip under his shirt and onto his bare skin.

Harry stared longingly into Louis' eyes when they pulled apart again and sighed. "We're about two days away from England," he said. "Reckon Charlotte got the letter already?"

"Hope so," Louis said, excitement coursing through him at the thought of the visit they were paying to his family. Their family, really. "'S'not like we're not welcome, though."

"I know, but surprise visits ain't your sister's favourite."

"That's too bad for her," Louis said, chuckling a little. "How tall do you reckon Charlie's got?"

"Don't care much," Harry said, his nose scrunching up. "As long as he don't try anythin' with Darce."

Louis gasped and chuckled at the same time, amused by Harry's resentment to boys taking an interest in their daughter and impressed by the fact that he was so hostile to a nine-year old's crush. "Harry, the boy's nine."

"So? That's when they start gettin' ideas," Harry said, his face turning even more begrudged. "Not with my daughter, though. Ain't going to allow the lad close to her."

"They're friends, she's going to want to see him," Louis pointed out, twisting his head until he could look at Harry. "She always gets what she wants, aye. She's got that stubbornness from you."

Harry laughed and nodded. "Don't I know it."

Of course, Harry knew about it. Louis had lost count on the number of times he's found his oldest and his husband in mindless arguments, which always came down to the indisputable stubbornness they shared. Not that the arguments always lasted very long: they'd be back to their close relationship and bantering in less than an hour.

That was probably the best thing about having children with Harry: Harry was best friends with his kids. Louis couldn't get enough of that particular part. Harry always made sure his relationship with his children was as well as it could possibly be, that he was as close with them as he could be.

"The little ones can't wait to see Adja," Harry said, referring to Zayn and Liam's daughter around the same age the twins were. "Been filling me head with her name."

"I reckon it's adorable," Louis said, kissing Harry's jaw. "They're fond of each other, 's'a good thing."

"Reckon Cecy's got a bit of a fancy," Harry said with a fondly amused smile.

"So you don't mind it if our daughter likes a girl, but God forbid a boy is interested in our eldest?"

Harry simply grinned and caused Louis to laugh in surprise before the latter leaned in and kissed Harry sweetly, the both of them smiling into the kiss. 

The sunset was warm on their skin as their arms wound around each other, the smell of salt hanging around them in the air, carried by a small breeze strong enough for the Cursed Odyssey to continue on its course to the United Kingdom. The waves were a gentle song in the background, accompanied by the faint sounds of music and chatter from down in the mess. Soon enough, Louis would be back in the palace to visit his mother, sisters and nephews and nieces (oh, no, Lottie wasn't the only mother in the palace), he would be able to see Liam and a heavily pregnant Zayn again, and he could do all of it right beside Harry, who, if Louis was not mistaken, was feeling rather good at the moment. And his smile widened when he sensed it.

Harry was happy too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck me. It's over??? It's... done???? I?? Am???? SO SAD????
> 
> Thank you all so so so much for sticking with me through this entire fic. You've all supported me through this fic, even when I didn't update for months on end because of whatever reasons. In the end, I probably wouldn't have finished this fic, had it not been for all of you. 
> 
> 𝐒𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭.
> 
> A special thanks to [DoncastersTea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoncastersTea/pseuds/DoncastersTea) for literally being the sweetest person ever and for commenting so much and supporting me so much? Can we please be friends omg?
> 
> Some of you were interested in whether I was going to do a new fic, and I have a new one [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16955760/chapters/39845517), it has three chapters published already. Personally, I think it is some of my best work yet (not that this fic sucked: I'm proud as hell!).
> 
> So much love to all of you. Have a great, phenomenal, fan-fucking-tastic New Years, I hope that 2019 will bring nothing but wonderful things to you.
> 
> 𝔘𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔫𝔢𝔵𝔱 𝔬𝔫𝔢.


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